


Agent Guinevere

by Arizonacolleen



Series: Sophie Hollander Guinevere Series [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: 1990s, F/M, Other, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-21 19:55:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11951484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arizonacolleen/pseuds/Arizonacolleen
Summary: What was it like for the first female Kingsman? That's the question that ultimately turned into Sophie Hollander, Agent Guinevere in this story.I'm just giving it a go posting it here. I have over 25 parts, spanning 1992-2014, so if people like it I will continue to post my stories. Hope you like it.Also, there are tons of Easter Egg sorts of things, 90s references to London, and events therein (my husband lived there then and helped me do a lot of research.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Go in-depth on this chapter with hints, in-jokes, and references on Sophie and Harry's Tumblr here:
> 
> <https://sophiehollanderandharryhart.tumblr.com/post/179527100923/agent-guinevere-chapter-1-840>

The locker was identical to the others along the wall, with the exception of a strip of white tape with, ‘Guinevere’ written on it. It was in stark contrast to each of the other lockers which bore brass nameplates for each of the Kingsman. Sophie couldn’t be bothered as she reached the locker - it was hers. She ran her fingers over the tape as if it were written with starlight, and happily opened the locker. Awaiting her was a steak, wrapped in finest butcher paper with a tag. 

Sophie turned the tag over, and it read,

Old Wives Tale or Victory Dinner? -Merlin 

This made Sophie smile, which made her wince a bit. She touched her face, trying to not be self conscious as the others entered the locker room. “I say, courtship has changed if the suitor just sends you a steak in the post.” Percival mused, “In my day half the fun was actually having the steak prepared with the lady present.” Sophie chuckled softly as the remark, turning to face the room. Her right eye was swollen shut, and several of the men failed to mask their reaction.

“I don’t know. I have a steak, and I don’t have to waste a night out with anyone.” She commented, “This system of courtship might be perfect.” Percival happily shook her hand, welcoming her and introducing her to the others. Galahad entered the room, reading from a flat touchscreen when Percival introduced them. “My word!” Galahad exclaimed as he took her hand, “Are you quite all right?” Sophie spied Merlin enter over Galahad’s shoulder and couldn’t resist the opportunity.

“Oh, this is nothing.” she admitted nonchalantly, “Merlin gave me a slap.” Merlin overheard her succinct description of events and walked over. Seeing the others either taken, or laughing at the description, he added, “Well she was asking for it.” Sophie nodded quickly, “That I was.” Sophie looked at the package in her hand, “Oh, and thank you for the steak.” She slipped her hand from the confused Harry’s grip and returned to her locker, and he looked to Merlin who just shook his head dismissively.

Sophie checked her tie one last time, replaced the steak, and closed her locker. She just stood at the closed locker for a moment, taking in as much of her surroundings as she could. The smell of age mingled with leather polish and when added to the exchanges of the men around her created a feeling of dizziness in Sophie. I must not let these things show. Must look the part, she thought as she turned to leave. 

 

All the Kingsman, present and available in field, assembled around the long chestnut table awaiting Arthur. Finding an empty seat and sitting down, Sophie took a deep breath and opened her notebook and pen to take notes. This attracted the attention of several Kingsman, who looked sternly in her direction but said nothing. Arthur entered and made his way to the head of the table briskly as he greeted all present. Sophie studied everyone at the table, silently observing not just their information but their pace, tone, meter, and body language as they reported any progress of interest to the group.  
Arthur addressed most of the people at the table in or way or another - except Sophie, who received no acknowledgement at all. Bastard, she thought, but said nothing as she worked her pen across the page idly. The meeting adjourned and as everyone began standing Arthur called out, “Oh! And Guinevere - Do report to me once that face heals up properly. We might have a mission befitting your talents.” Sophie smiled back at him, but her stare could’ve frozen beer. Arthur didn’t notice as he quickly filed out of the room with two other men. 

“Don’t pay any attention to him.” Percival assured, “He was bested and he’s handling it poorly.” Sophie kept the smile affixed. She acknowledged that these men might agree that he’s out of line, but they would never take that position to Arthur directly, and certainly never in front of anyone. That battle was hers alone to fight. “Listen, you might not know this, but you shouldn’t keep a record of what’s said in here on paper. It isn’t safe. Spy 101.” Percival explained. Sophie knew he meant well, but the lecture taxed her good humor to its brink. She tore the paper from her notebook and handed it to him without saying anything. 

Sophie thanked him simply and quickly left the room. Lancelot approached Percival curiously, “What do you think Arthur has in store for her?” Percival looked down at the paper, realising it was a rough sketch of a meadow with starlings in the distance. He smiled, humbled by his own mistake. “I don’t know, but I do look forward to reading the report. Don’t you?” 

 

Sophie went straight down to the training room, changing to train. Unlike the men training in the gym, Sophie would most likely be in a dress when she engages in combat, so when she took the opportunity to train, she did it in a slip with bike shorts. This was not lost on her contemporaries, who had never seen such a thing. Sophie stretched, rolling her neck and shoulders before extending her limbs and twisting her hips for measure. She did a few tumbles at first to get loose before practicing pratfalls and jumping to her feet. A few amused Kingsman watched as Sophie landed flat on her stomach on the mat, working to a gymnastic bounce. 

Satisfied with that for the moment, Sophie went to wrap her ankles for kickboxing with the mat. Most of the Kingsman worked in pairs, but Sophie preferred to work alone. She knew the men were reluctant to really have a go at her and that didn’t help her at all. In fact, hesitation could distract her so she avoided it at all cost. With the ankle wrapped, she slipped on her heels and began a series of focused kicks at the heavy bag - first in a single target, then alternating high and low kicks. Her slip crept over her hips, and after a period most of the men in the room stopped to… admire her technique.

Sophie stopped, momentarily out of breath, when she noticed her admirers for the first time. “If you ever need a sparring partner, I’m all too happy to help.” she heard as she tightened her tape. “Anytime you’re ready, Gareth” she replied pleasantly, “no pads.” This caused a roar of laughter from the group until Merlin appeared and the crowd dispersed. “Prepping for the field I see?” he queried, “Clever.” Sophie huffed loudly, “Do you see ladies’ fashion these days? I may as well be fighting in nothing whatsoever.”  
Merlin considered her comment as she threw a few warm-up punches. “Come to the lab when you are finished.” he advised, “I think I can help you there.”

 

Once showered, Sophie entered the lab and tucked her hair behind her ear to dry. Merlin was tinkering with a flatscreen tablet while several men in white coats worked at different tables. Sophie watched a round flask boiling liquid which was distilling into another container. “Sophie.” Merlin called, looking up, “Edwin has been working on a formula that might be useful to you.” Sophie approached Edwin brightly, shaking his hand as she studied his work. “If I may…” he began, “This is a perfect graphene molecule aerosol I’ve been finishing. It’s ultra light,” he explained as he sprayed a handkerchief, “but once it stabilizes, it’s twice as effective as kevlar.”

As Sophie watched, the handkerchief was attached to a frame and run down a firing lane. Several men fired at it with no success. “It’s also quite powerful at resisting knife attack.” Edwin remarked proudly, “Now, this won’t stop shots within five yards, nor will it stop punctures and stab wounds. Only slashes, but it is a start.” Sophie held the handkerchief and felt the fibers, “It’s brilliant!” She replied, “Well done. So, could I have some silk stockings treated perhaps?” Edwin smirked, “I’ll do better than that - I can also formulate a compressed bottle to carry like perfume.”

“That would be amazing.” Sophie said, “Also, do you think you could do something with my shoes?” Edwin looked down with a puzzled expression at her oxfords and Sophie chuckled. “Oh, not these. But a solid heel would be perfect for hiding things, maybe even explosives or lock picks? Something that would pass a search. If the shoes can be interchangeable it would be a great help to me.” Edwin nodded, his eyes shining with ideas. “I’ll have a think about it. I’ve never considered women’s accessories before, but I’m certain we can come up with something.”

 

With her eye freshly healed, Sophie made her way through the headquarters to meet with Arthur. She stood outside the dining room, listening to him boisterously chat about horses and wondered how long a wait she was going to have when he called out for her to join. “Guinevere, please join us!” he called as she entered the room and observed that his conversation was taking place with a video screen. “Gentleman, our newest Kingsman, all healed up and ready for her first assignment,” he explained, “although a spot of makeup would not go amiss on such a lovely face.” Sophie pursed her lips, “I am wearing makeup, Sir.” she replied.

Arthur smiled, “Is that the fashion? I must admit, I seldom notice the trends. Perhaps that’s why you’re so well suited to the task at hand.” Sophie draw a deep but quiet breath as Arthur extended his hand and offered her a seat. He continued as she sat, “Tell me Guinevere - what do you know about Azerbaijan?” He studied her curiously as she rested her hands in her lap and considered the question. “Azerbaijan history reaches into antiquity, but within the last year and the fall of the USSR, independence seems within view.” She explained, “I don’t think that will be without conflict though, perhaps even war. So I wouldn’t recommend a vacation.” 

Arthur tapped the leather place setting, “That’s very good. We believe that Azerbaijan might be facing a brilliant new era in the times ahead, which is why our sources have confirmed that a major influx in funds to the drug pipeline from Afghanistan and Georgia is currently being supplied. We believe it may be coming from the United States of America, funding Muslim warriors to destabilize Cold War relations.” Sophie nodded, “Sounds like the Yanks.” she concluded, “I supposed a good amount of these drugs are spilling onto our soil.” 

Arthur nodded and turned his focus to the screen over the fireplace, “This man is Taziel Oniani, and he controls one of the largest organized crime rings in Georgia. He is a direct competitor to the Baku mob, and his nephew Rovshan, pictured here, has just opened a premiere club in Baku. Your mission is to infiltrate the Electra Club, engage Rovshan, and report back any known ties to English trafficking. Your alias is Claudia Talbot, and you will be given a front as a previous dancer with the Allen school of dance. Do you understand?”

Sophie looked over the dossier Arthur set before her, “What specifically am I looking for?” she asked, reading her profile. Arthur sipped his brandy, “Anything you can find. We will be looking for you to engage the enemy intimately, and in an ongoing capacity. This mission is deep cover and long term.” Sophie looked up from her dossier with an expression that made Arthur smirk triumphantly. “Does that worry you?” He asked pointedly, “Being a Kingsman means accepting new challenges as part of your commitment.” 

Determined to not give him the satisfaction, Sophie smiled, “Not at all Arthur. I’m just flattered. Deep cover for a first mission - I’ve never heard of such a thing. It’s quite a vote of confidence.” Arthur’s smile faded, and he swallowed the last of his brandy. “Well, you meet a unique profile. You are trained, available, and with no family it was decided that deep cover would be a great fit.” Arthur added with a sick laugh, “I don’t think any of our male agents would prove as appealing on the dance floor.” Sophie smiled sickly as his comment. They were sending her away, and not because she had inspired them.

Just then, the door opened and a single tray was brought in, “That’ll be my lunch.” Arthur acknowledged, “I didn’t know if you were on a diet and I didn’t wish to presume.” Sophie stood and collected her folder silently. As she reached the door she turned back, “Thank you Arthur. I’ll ready myself and make all necessary arrangements.” Arthur simply waved his hand to dismiss her as he chewed and Sophie left. She went to her locker, resting her forehead again the tape nameplate and closing her eye to center herself in the silence.

“Are you feeling unwell?” She heard someone ask. Sophie raised her head and cleared her throat, “A mild headache. Nothing serious.” She turned and smiled at Harry, who was returning gloves to his locker. “It’s a beautiful day, shame to waste it in the locker room.” He offered with a slight smile. Sophie’s green eyes shone mischievously as she leaned in, “Galahad, are you suggesting I bunk off?” A moment of silence passed between them before Harry closed his locker and replied charmingly, “Yes.” He coolly walked past her and said over his shoulder as he left, “Have a lovely afternoon Guinevere.” Sophie stood there for a few minutes smiling, then grabbed her trenchcoat and left for the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work and home life are changing as Sophie prepares for her first mission

The Brittany spaniel happily ran among the children, chasing his ball and licking each face as they retrieved it and tossed it out again. His tail wagged nonstop as he looked from one face to another, reveling in all the love surrounding him. As the children began running across the courtyard with the dog in happy pursuit, Sophie opened her flask and poured her tea. She sipped the warm liquid down heartily as she watched them from across the street. “They do love that dog.” The Vicar said, sighing as he sat beside her. Sophie offered her cup, but the Vicar raised his hand to dismiss it. 

“They seem to.” Sophie said with a wry smile, “I’m glad. That can be such a lonely time.” The vicar nodded silently, “And now? Is time lonely for you at present?” He looked over to Sophie, but her gaze remained fixed on the little dog as he ran happily along. A woman appeared at the door and the children began to file into the building. One girl walked the dog to a little pen and locked him inside before joining the other children. He pawed at the fence for a few seconds before circling and laying down by his little house. “I’m well.” Sophie answered, “The work is challenging, but rewarding.”

The vicar smiled, “Never would’ve seen you as a tailor. With your education, I would’ve imagined work in a lab somewhere. Although, I do like the suit.” Sophie considered his remarks as she finished her tea, “Well, what I do is quite technical,” she explained, “I travel and research synthetic fibers and manufacturing. In fact, I’m traveling very soon. I just came to see Puck again, and to leave these.” She set a large bag of treats between them, “Of course, if he needs anything…” she offered. The vicar collected the bag, turning to face her. “You know you can always come visit Puck yourself. He is your dog.” Sophie closed her flask and sat forward, “No. He’s theirs now, but I will help if he needs it.” 

There was a brief moment of silence while the vicar studied her tone. “You know, there is nothing wrong with having a companion just for yourself.” He mentioned, “It might be nice to have someone at home who waits for you.” Sophie stood and turned to collect her flask and place it in her attache. “It’s fortunate I don’t, actually,” she said kindly, “I don’t know how long I will be gone.” She removed a thick business card and extended it to him, “In case he needs anything. Or them,” she proffered, “or you. Anything at all, Reverend Hislop.” He took the card, clutching it as he replied, “Even just to cross foils like old times?” Sophie smiled despite herself, “Careful Vicar,” she mused, “I might be better than you remember.”

“It must be all that tailoring keeping you on your toes.” He remarked. Sophie looked to her feet. She hated lying to him more than she realized she would. “Be careful,” he advised, “Whatever you are doing.” Sophie gave one emphasized nod and met his gaze. “Always.” She answered simply, “I will be back when I can. Take care of Puck.” Sophie then turned and made her way briskly to avoid further conversation. There were times when that home feels so familiar to her that, even now, it is the best place to clear her head. There was no escaping that each visit made it more clear that she wasn’t that girl anymore. She wondered what sort of woman she would be in the years to come as she climbed into the black cab and left Fulham behind her.

Back at the office, Sophie poured over piles of fashion magazines and intel reports as a repetitive beat droned on in the room. She tried to focus on what sort of woman would successfully seduce and keep the focus of this target. She looked at surveillance photos of Oniani, with a woman on either arm outside his club. The music continued loudly thumping with no discernable flow as she focused, then stood and stretched. She removed her coat and tried to imagine the appeal of this new club scene. Her shoulders slumped; social halls had never been her strong suit. Percival knocked on the door, and Sophie opened it to welcome him in. 

“Interesting stuff, isn’t it?” He offered, adding a new folder to her pile. “I’ve been following this intel for nearly a year, but there’s no way I’d break into that social dynamic.” Sophie absentmindedly bit her thumb as she listened. Percival winced at the music, “Don’t let the assignment bother you - this is exactly the blind spot we should be working to exploit. Just...if I may, keep it simple. Shallow girls always seem to last the longest. Those who are amiable, and know what the men want.” Sophie considered his advice, “What do the men want?” She asked. Percival smiled, “What all men want I suppose: to feel important.” 

Percival touched her elbow gingerly, then went to leave. Sophie turned to him, “It’s not just me?” She asked, “It is just noise, isn’t it?” Sophie waved her hand toward the stereo with exasperation. Percival turned back, smiling, “Perhaps you are too sober.” He mused. Sophie’s eyes trailed as she considered that and then shrugged. She turned the radio off, grabbed her coat and left for the research and development department to review her luggage, but not before she went to the dining room for a whiskey. She sipped it alone, standing as she waited for the transport to HQ.

 

“It’s really simple,” Edwin explained, “each piece has a specific function. We will pack your bags and prepare them for the drop, so all you will need to do is familiarize yourself with these tools once you arrive, using the information in the Kingsman network.” Sophie examined the jewelry curiously, then nodded in understanding. She loved this element of the work - all the technology and its field application. It was that which drew her to Arthur’s invitation nearly a year before. That time already seemed far away to her now, as she tried on a lethal pair of heels and paced in a line to get the feel of them before giving her notes to Edwin. 

“I couldn’t have asked for better.” Sophie said with a grin, “They’re perfect. Thank you, Edwin. You are a proper genius.” Edwin tapped his pad once for emphasis, blushing at the praise. “Good luck out there, Guinevere.” he offered, “Also, you might consider…” he mentioned, his voice dropping to a whisper, “a long term birth control.” Sophie straightened, and Edwin rolled on his heels, pleased with his considering something she had not. A nervous smile crept over Sophie as she responded, “Oh course. I will take that into consideration.” Sophie then signed her releases and left, a storm brewing in her mind. 

She returned on the transport and bolted past each person and out the door. She was completely lost in thought as she stepped out onto Saville Row and turned to the tube without any dedicated thought. She knew the path to her home by route, and her mind was plagued with the realization of Edwin’s words. She was expected to engage this target intimately. Her entire mission was built around insinuating herself into his inner circle, all based of her creating closeness with him. Sophie reached her flat, inserting the key into the door and dropping her attache and coat onto the floor as the door swung closed. 

She stepped out of her oxfords, a habit she knew was bad for the shoe, and dropped her coat and tie as she made her way to the shower. She turned the tap and heard the water before sitting under it, her shirt and trousers still fastened as the cool water poured over her. She sat there for several minutes as the realization dawned on her. “Shit.” She uttered aloud.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guinevere has a special request of Galahad.
> 
> This part contains adult content. Please be advised of this going forward.

Merlin exited the elevator, leaving Sophie and Harry alone. Sophie looked forward pensively, gathering her strength. “I heard you are set for your first mission,” Harry said, breaking the silence, “Congratulations.”

“Yes. Thank you.“ Sophie replied. She gathered her hands behind her back and held her shoulders straight. “It’s quite a thing, going deep cover for the first time.“ She continued, “So much to think about.” She looked at her reflection in the polished brass lining the interior of the elevator, careful to avoid his direction. Harry shuffled through the papers in his hands. “We’ve all been there.” He offered, with a reassuring if meek smile. “Trust your training. You won’t encounter anything you aren’t prepared for.”

“Actually. I was hoping to ask you...” Sophie began, feeling the blood rise in her cheeks. For the first time, she snuck a fleeting glimpse at Harry and she tried to find the right words. There was a moment of silence before she continued, “Its just that I… I’m expecting to have to engage the enemy intimately.” 

“Yes.” Harry said flatly, “Well, we have all been there as well.” Harry nodded his head for emphasis, which immediately made Sophie wonder if there was a specific example he had conjured for such a response. “When these things are required, a Kingsman always does his duty.” he concluded, “So to speak.” He noted the telling expression on Sophie’s face before adding, “It isn’t as though you were making love.” he clarified, “It is different.”

Sophie looked down, inhaling deeply. “It’s just that, I don’t exactly have any previous training for that.” Her gaze came up and connected to Harry’s as she admitted, “Not at all.” Their gaze averted and both looked forward again and for that moment there was complete silence.

“I find myself distressed at the thought of that experience being with a possible murderer.” she explained. Harry considered the likelihood of that, but decided it was not beneficial to contribute his thoughts. It was then that he remembered how this came up. 

“Galahad,” she addressed, a slight quiver in her voice giving her away, “I respect you. I trust you. Those wouldn’t be terrible traits to be present when a lady…” Sophie lost her courage and simply stopped talking, but her point was clearly made. Harry looked at her, considering the entire situation in silence. The silence eroded Sophie’s confidence and she continued, “Listen, I’m sorry...”

“I’d be honored to help.” Harry interjected. He found her gaze with a warm reassuring smile and replied, “Anything I can do to help prepare a fellow Kingsman.” Sophie smiled at this phrasing, relieved. She steadied herself with a hand at her waist and took a deep breath. “I go out Friday. So Thursday evening would be best.” she explained, “I will make arrangements.” Sophie looked forward again, feeling her confidence returning to her. This made Harry smile.

“I will be available.” Harry said with a nod. The elevator reached the floor, and Sophie straightened her tie before continuing. “Thank you Galahad.” she said simply. Stepping back to allow her to exit, Harry replied, “Until Thursday, Guinevere.”

 

Harry arrived at the Dorchester Hotel, checked his bag and walked into the bar to meet Sophie. It took two scans of the room before his eyes settled on the willowy figure in the soft yellow tulle. He had not expected to see her so...feminine. Harry found himself smiling and he approached and asked to take a seat. Sophie looked up, her face lighting up as she welcomed him. There was something so attractive in Harry’s sameness. He was so predictable, yet she was sure there was more to this. 

Harry took his seat and ordered a gin and tonic. Sophie sipped her gin fizz, and both sat quietly until his drink arrived. He took his first sip and sighed with complete satisfaction which made Sophie giggle. “I must admit, I’m not so great at the drinking part.” She confessed, “I suppose I just need more practice.” Harry turned his glass in his hand slowly, “You will get plenty of practice in time. Is there anything so lovely as a nice bit of gin after a long day?” 

Sophie raised her half-full glass in agreement, “Cin cin.” she offered, and Harry touched glasses before they finished their drinks. It was another round before Sophie collected her handbag. Harry insisted on paying for the lady’s drinks, and she left his room key hanging from the purse hook before leaving alone to the room. Harry would have another before leaving to discreetly join her. 

He knocked softly on the door before inserting the key and entering the room. Sophie was removing items from her bag, and looked up to acknowledge him as he entered. As he set his bag down on the table, she walked around to him but found herself at a loss as to how to continue. As a nervous laugh gasped out, he looked over her shoulder at the items on the bed. “Is that your chessboard?” he asked. 

Sophie rolled her eyes, embarrassed. “I didn’t know what to bring. There’s also a bottle of wine and a book of Dylan Thomas poetry over there.” Harry smiled at the collection, “Well, I’ve never needed his help,” he remarked, “but the wine and the chess were spot on. Well done you.” This made Sophie laugh, and Harry continued, “Why don’t we just take out our time, order a snack, and relax? There’s no reason to rush.”

A wave of relief rushed over Sophie. She nodded and slipped off her heels, dropping several inches and sinking into the lush carpet. Harry tried not to seem too obvious as he watched her and removed his coat. The crispness of his white shirt paired beautifully with his deep navy braces and tie, and he felt confident in them, but he was mesmerized by her glowing skin as it's pink played against the yellow of the dress. She looked much smaller, almost fragile and Harry had not yet considered the quality of these charms. For the first time, he found a stirring for her in himself.

Sophie called down for charcuterie and then went to the bed to set up the chessboard. As Harry stood laying out his shaving kit onto the counter, she called to him, “I forgot to bring a corkscrew. Can you help or should I call down for one?” Harry returned to the room to examine the bottle and then sat down and began removing his shoes. As Sophie accepted the room service tray and signed, Harry set the bottle into his oxford and laced it tightly.

As Sophie looked on quizzically, Harry stood and struck the wall with the shoed bottle. Several strikes and the cork began to rise from the bottle. “Amazing!” Sophie exclaimed, “Is there nothing a good pair of shoes can’t do?” She leaned up and gratefully kissed Harry on the cheek before returning to set the tray onto the table. Harry said nothing as he liberated the bottle and met her at the table, but poured the wine. There was something unspoken but comfortable in the exchange. It was as though they were old friends.

Dinner was followed by a relaxed but competitive chess game. Sophie studied Harry’s every move closely before making her own terribly misguided rebuttal. This could have been blamed on the now completed bottle of wine, which Sophie intended to give full credit to. As she studied his pristine army, he admired her small frame as she lounged.

“You look so different from work.” Harry offered, “Your suits make you seem so, well... different.” Sophie didn’t look up from the board, “A suit is the modern man's armour.” She replied, “I’ve no need for armour with you.” Harry looked seriously at her, “Quite right, too.” he said. This broke Sophie’s concentration and she took in his admiration. Warm with the knowledge of his gaze, she leaned in and softly kissed him on the lips. 

“Checkmate.” He murmured as their lips parted, moving his queen into position. “Damn.” Sophie said, defeated as her attention was drawn to the board. Harry’s attention never left Sophie, and he took her cheek in his strong hand and he leaned in and kissed again. This kiss was commanding, and Sophie leaned back onto the bed as Harry followed her. His hands found her zipper and pulled it down the length of the dress as he continued to explore her mouth. 

Breaking the kiss, he stood, removed the chessboard from the bed and began removing his braces and unbuttoning his shirt. Sophie, a bit drunk with both wine and the sudden rush of hormones, silently watched as his muscular chest emerged and as he unfastened his trousers she found all reluctance had abandoned her. She wanted this man, and she only hoped he wanted her too.

Now down to his pants, Harry refocused his attention to Sophie, climbing slowly onto the bed and meeting her again with another deep, soft kiss. His hands worked to liberate her from the dress, and as she shed the layers of tulle he kissed her neck and ran a hand down her back. Harry continued showering her with affectionate kisses, first the neck and down the sternum between the breasts to her stomach. Sophie closed her eyes, trying to allow the sensation to overwhelm any feelings of nerves that remained. 

Harry stopped at the waist of her panties, kissing along the lace as he took either side into his hands and gently pulled them away. Sophie took a deep breath and they passed her toes, and her legs fell open to this man. She closed her eyes, but felt him unexpectedly kissing the inside of her thigh. She resisted the reaction to draw her legs together and reached down to feel his hair as she felt the warmth of his breath upon her. 

“You are so beautiful.” He said softly, “So truly beautiful.” Sophie was at a complete loss, and Harry kissed the hand that was resting in his hair before assuring her, “Trust me Sophie.” She nodded and laid back onto the pillow as he tasted her. She bucked as he explored her with a gentle knowing, a care that both shocked her but also completely kept her at ease. As he gripped her thighs with his strong hands and began gentle external strokes she began to tremble.

Sophie surrendered to the feeling of his tongue and could feel her body spasm when he stopped, and began to kiss up her body once again. He rested at the other side of her neck, kissing and caressing her neck for several minutes as he reached for the clasp on her bra. His face met hers as he peeled it away, and he brushed her nose as he hovered so close to a kiss before dropping again to caress and kiss her breasts.

Harry touched her with a delicate knowing that sent shivers down her spine. He cupped her breast, letting his fingers brush her nipples as he kissed and lightly suckled each one before slowly trailing his way back to her face. He reached below to remove his pants and pushed her left leg over a bit to rest against her. Sophie could feel him against her, and as his eyes met hers she could barely control her trembling. A broken breath escaped her lips as Harry brushed his nose against hers. 

For a moment there was nothing, just the reality of their bodies together in this space as they looked into each other's eyes. Then, carefully, without saying anything, Sophie felt Harry push into her slowly. There was pressure, sensation, then they were together and as Sophie released a deep breath Harry kissed her again. He touched her face and she wrapped her right leg around him as he pulled from her and followed with another gentle thrust. 

All Sophie could think of Harry - his body, his scent, and his voice as she felt him take another in a series of progressively more rhythmic thrusts. She felt so close to him, yet she couldn’t seem to get close enough. It was as if she wanted to consume him - to have him inside her forever. Still, she could feel her body responding without her direction. She bucked against him and he kissed her forehead as his pace quickened. It was then that she first felt a deep desire for his orgasm. 

 

She held to his back and neck, pulling him close to her as she began responding to his thrusts. He met her gaze and she kissed him. “Harry…” she panted. She felt all at once the possession of this night, this event and herself. She had given herself to this man. She felt the first waves of orgasm and she cried out as Harry kissed her earlobe and whispered, “Beautiful beautiful Sophie. My strong Sophie.” 

Sophie bucked, seized and came while moaning thunderously. Her grip framed Harry, who shuddered, stopped and roared as he came. Again their eyes met, and Harry kissed her lips softly. “Thank you, Galahad.” She whispered. Harry withdrew to washroom and Sophie rolled onto her side. She felt...desirable. Glowing. 

Harry returned and crept into bed to hold her. He kissed her shoulder softly in the dark, whispering to her. “You have no need to worry. You are a Kingsman, and a Kingsman is ready for anything.” he soothed, “And you are going to be deadly.” With those words in her mind, an exhausted Sophie drifted to sleep in his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Guinevere goes to work.

Harry set his razor onto the counter, careful to be as quiet as possible. Of course, he could have closed the washroom doors, but then he wouldn’t have been able to look out and see Sophie’s face as she slept. As much as he might resist focusing on it, the events of the previous evening buzzed around his brain like a bluebottle. The softness of her skin, the smell of her hair and those sporadic and frenzied whimpers of hushed intensity were persistent in his thoughts. 

He didn’t notice Sophie slowly open her eyes as he was buttoning his shirt, and she was grateful to steal a few moments of assumed privacy as he polished up. She was careful not to move for fear of breaking her invisibility spell and losing the moment. She watched as his hands moved with the rhythm of perfect knowledge as he finished his windsor knot. It was a precision acquired by years of practice, and Sophie wondered if anyone else had admired its efficiency. 

She decided to close her eyes and let him finish his routine unabated. These moments, she declared, were for her alone. She closed her eyes before Harry exited the washroom and went to retrieve his trousers from the closet. He dressed facing the bed, affording himself one last, lengthy gaze at the girl pretending to be asleep. Both parties found themselves in a love affair, and neither of them aware of it. 

Harry gently lifted his coat from the hanger and gathered his things before slipping through the door and quietly away into the early morning. Sophie heard the door close and stretched across the mattress, wondering what he thought of the previous evening. Was it never to be spoken of again? Was his agreeing to do it out of a blossoming friendship, or a gentlemanly obligation? 

Sophie huffed as she wondered these things. She was sometimes prone to over-thinking things. It was, Sophie decided as she rose to her feet, not an unpleasant way to have spent an evening. She smiled as she considered if she’d ever have another. Her mission and all its nervousness were far from her mind as the made her way to the bath. There were worse things than a boy not calling you back, after all.

 

That was a fleeting, distant memory to her now though. Sophie struggled to focus, her vision blurred and her head pounding. She tasted blood, and as she lifted her head from the cement floor her handcuffs pulled her arms back and limited her reach. She rolled back onto her knees, placing her hands at her feet and began removing the straps of her shoes. _Ok Guinevere_ , she told herself taking a slow breath, _you can do this_. She looked up to the ceiling as she slipped off the first shoe and gripped it. She leaned back and began scratching the sole of the shoe against the floor until it began to wear away, and she sighed in relief as she felt the graphite tools begin to emerge from the worn heel. As she pulled the picks free, she began to work to unlock the handcuffs until she felt the first bracelet give. 

A huge sigh of relief escaped her as she brought her wrists together, working with her free hand to liberate the other. Once free, Sophie slammed the shoes against the ground, snapping the heels from the soles. She carefully tucked each into her bra and rose to her feet to check the view from the door. She listened, but heard nothing. She moved her ring to her index finger and turned it around. As she opened the door and checked down the hall, she spied one man at the end of the corridor. Tiptoeing quietly up to him, Sophie activated her ring and grabbed his scalp. As he seized and collapsed, Sophie took his gun and continued down the corridor to the staircase. Dropping to the floor, she crawled up the stairs slowly, watching for any sign of men.

At the top of the stairs were five men, standing together. Sophie slowly slid along the wall at the top of the stairs before leaning in and shooting each man in rapid succession. Though she missed none of them, her cover was now blown and she knew others would be coming. She quickly made her way through the the back passage to the kitchen, shooting one henchman as he sat snacking. “Leave. Now.” She ordered, as the staff immediately ran from the kitchen. She heard Rovshan’s voice in the intercom, “Gicdillag! I invited you into my home, and you repay my affections with disloyalty? Ganjykh!” Sophie listened as another henchman appeared in the doorway and went for his gun when she shot twice.

Sophie knew she was running low on ammo, and made her way through the dining room cautiously. She fished the two heels from her bra and snapped them together. They clicked and produced a high-pitch frequency when she gave them a good shake and tossed them through the doorway and into the foyer. She only had seconds to turn before the explosion ripped through the doorway and sent the chandelier crashing down in the foyer. As she was rounding the doorway to make her escape, she was grabbed from behind and held by her scalp. “Ganjykh.” Rovshan spat hatefully. “I must say, you’ve already said that.” Sophie replied plussed. 

Rovshan tried pulling her back, only to have Sophie throw her head back. This caught him off guard, allowing her to get off a single shot at him before he knocked the gun away and punched her in the stomach. Sophie went to deflect the blow and Rovshan wrapped his hands around her throat, squeezing intensely. Sophie tried breaking the grip, but failed, and Rovshan pulled her off her feet to redouble his efforts at strangling her. Sophie struck his face and aimed for his eyes with no avail. Feeling herself go faint, she reached for his face. Rovshan laughed as she seemed to fade, pulling her close to him to look her in the eye. That was when Sophie grabbed her bracelet, stretching it to activate it and wrapping it around his throat. 

The bracelet immediately began to constrict around his throat like a garrotte, and he released her to free himself from it. Sophie dropped to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. She grabbed the fallen gun and rolled under the heavy oak table to catch her breath as she watching Rovshan struggle against the bracelet, which constricted until it crushed his windpipe and he stopped writhing. Sophie held her throat, which ached as she took great panicked breaths. She listened, but heard nothing. When the silence was undisturbed for several minutes, Sophie went after her duffle and wrapped her trench around it. She slipped flats on and left the home through the office, taking all the files she could stuff and putting all the remaining ones into the fireplace.

As she slipped out of the compound, she stole a car and drove to the nearest phone booth. Dialing the number, she listened to the dial before the called open, “Good afternoon, customer complaints.” The voice said with a crisp British accent, “How many I assist you?”  
“The Kipper was made Killing,” Sophie said flatly, “Kipper Solitaire.”  
“I understand.” The voice replied.  
“I have an improper fitting.” Sophie said calmly, “I will require an alteration.”  
“I understand,” the voice responded, “Would this be an in house alteration, Madam?”  
“Yes.” she replied.  
“If the Madam will refer to her receipt, collection can be made for 2200 from the point.” the voice said.  
“I understand,” Sophie sighed, “Thank you.”

Sophie replaced the receiver, leaving the phone booth and abandoning the car and making her way to the Four Seasons. Kingsman kept several suites at five star resorts on a retainer around the world, to aide in all manner of business. With enough money, questions stop being asked. Sophie arrived and received the key from the concierge, taking the private elevator to the penthouse and locking herself in. Once inside, she repacked all information and evidence, stripped all her clothes and bagged them for evidence. Once the business was done, she took her gun and information to the bathroom and locked herself inside. Then, inside the confines of the hot shower, Sophie let the steaming water pour over her. She wept bitterly as she clutched her throat and shook as she processed her shock. 

At 2155 there was a knock at the door, and Sophie stood beside it and unlocked it. She pulled her gun as she opened it, and Merlin stepped right in front of it. “It’s only me Guinevere.” He said calmly. Sophie dropped the gun immediately, but Merlin showed no offense. “I’m sorry,” she explained, “one of those days.” Sophie shut the door and walked past him. She was completely suited and packed for extraction. She had even applied makeup to cover her bruises, and was trying to appear as unshaken as possible. “I saw that.” Merlin acknowledged, “It’s all over the news. Some rival gang declared war it seems.” Sophie grabbed her bag, not allowing Merlin to carry it for her. “Such a violent time in this region.” She said flippantly as they left.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galahad topples the queen and the stage is finally set for this story.

Sophie sat in the meeting, tapping her pen along her legal pad absentmindedly. It was, after all, entirely superfluous beyond habit. She could write nothing important onto it, for nothing important could be given to documentation. Still, Sophie liked the tangible distraction. She feared she had not yet mastered the visceral qualities of her male counterparts and relied on the notebook to deflect a fleeting facial expression.  
This was not a difficult day for such a meeting, since most of the information being exchanged was technical in nature and nothing to do with her. Still, she had just returned to London from her nearly ten months’ away, and she was quite different for the sake of it. She had nearly died, and she had killed her first man. As was policy with the Kingsman, she was to take a compulsory week off to decompress after such a mission, and she was only at this meeting to make her final report.  
She looked at the notebook, determined that only her physical abrasions give any sign of difficulty concerning the mission. She wished to appear flawless and stoic before her contemporaries, successful in every way. She practiced to sound as comfortable as possible, and merely smiled briefly when Arthur congratulated her of her successful mission. Her eyes swept around the table at each agent, and no one could have caught them linger on anyone before she returned them to her empty pad.  
No one except Galahad, whose eyes connected with Sophie as she made the sweep. He had thought of Sophie Hollander more than he would admit to anyone - even to her. His eyes traced back to his screen only to fleetingly glance back in her direction as she studied her notes. He wondered what she was writing. Certainly not information from the meeting, which was simply an excuse to think about her without explanation, he concluded.  
Harry had not expected to find himself so consumed by an event from nearly a year ago, and yet he found nearly any excuse to think about that night. She was altogether enchanting, like the scent of a cherished book and then she was gone. Harry realized as soon as he could not see her again that he wanted to, quite terribly. This brought another wrinkle, howbeit, in that he had absolutely no idea if she had thought of him at all. He had considered this in the time which had passed, and resolved to accept whatever relationship that was to come. Looking at her now made that resolution difficult.  
The meeting ended, and as everyone prepared to leave he took his opportunity. “Congratulations Guinevere” he offered affably. Sophie looked up, her preoccupation clear, but quickly deflected with a smile. “Yes, thank you.” She replied quietly, “I’m not sure what I will do with the entire week though. Not really looking forward to it.” Sophie was unsure if this was a wise thing to admit, and appraised his tie to recover. Harry gently touched her elbow, returning her focus to his face. “I find baking passes the time, and can be very relaxing.” he advised.  
This made Sophie smile, “You like to bake?” she asked amused, “I shall have to enlist your tutelage. My most skilled accomplishment would be in the PG Tips range.” Her smile spread to Harry, and he looked up in mirth. Sophie added, “Truly, I’m only returning with a curry tonight.” Harry admired her as she laughed at the thought, “Nonsense,” he replied, “I shall make you dinner. A curry is not an acceptable feast for a returning hero.” Sophie’s cheeks flushed slightly, and a wave of happy relief washed over Harry. 

“That...would be lovely,” she said sheepishly, “As long as I’m not preventing you from anything.” Harry replied confidently, “There is nothing I would rather do this evening.” He walked past the table and held the door as Sophie walked through it. Merlin watched as Sophie scribbled onto a sheet of the legal pad and handed it to Harry, then the pair separated and returned to work. Merlin smirked to himself, then returned silently to his notes.

 

Later that evening, as Sophie stood cursing her kettle, she heard a buzzing at her door. She stepped back into her heels before answering. It opened to reveal Harry - dapper as ever, holding a bag of produce and a box tied with twine. He looked up as he heard music from the apartment. “Rachmaninov?” he inquired, his eyes shining. Sophie leaned against the door and smiled at him, “The Isle of the Dead,” she answered, “I do hope I’m good company tonight. I’ve been frightfully preoccupied since my return.”  
Harry said nothing, but slightly shifted his arms, which made Sophie roll her eyes at her own thoughtlessness. “Of course, please come in. Wherever are my manners?” Harry walked past her, quickly dashing her fret with a simple, “You’re on holiday. This is why we require the week’s decompression.” He spied in the kitchen, seeing the abandoned teacup before setting the packages down onto the counter. He silently appraised the kitchen, which was rudimentary but could serve his needs.  
He then returned to the sitting room, which was bursting with character. It was brightly served by pinks, yellows, and hints of baby blue and though it had only a few pieces of furniture they were well-acquired. It was the records strewn on the floor in the corner of the room and the books in idle stacks throughout the room and the hall that Harry especially loved. It reminded him of Sandhurst, and all those late nights discovering the musings of the great thinkers. Imagining Sophie spending her evenings in similar pursuit gave him a warm feeling, if she were a bit disorganized in her avocation.  
Harry noticed the familiar chess set on her coffee table and smiled, while Sophie turned her attention to the record which had ended and was turning silently. “Care for a rematch?” he asked. Without looking back, Sophie replied, “I don’t think my ego could take it tonight I’m afraid.” Harry laughed dryly, “Haven’t you just killed a man? Not the action of the callow.” Harry watched quizzically as Sophie stepped out of her heels and knelt on the floor to mill through her records. As she produced a replacement and leaned over the turntable to change records, she looked back at him seriously.  
“That isn’t funny.” She responded flatly, which Harry immediately realized was true. “Quite right,” he admitted soberly, “absolutely.” Sophie looked at the ceiling, and Harry watched as her shoulders heaved and then dropped, making her appear to shrink in stature. She clicked her tongue but said nothing for several moments. Harry said nothing, watching her kindly from across the room. “I know I did the right thing.” she mused, “I don’t regret doing it. Why do I feel so badly about having done it?” 

 

Harry removed his glasses, seeking to spare her from any self-consciousness before gently stepping into her view. “Because,” he responded gingerly, “you are a good person Sophie.” The words were an overwhelming comfort, and tears lined her eyes as she closed them in a futile effort to ebb them. Harry dropped to a knee, tracing her single tear as it spilled down her cheek. Sophie leaned into his open palm, feeling its warmth as a broken breath escaped her. “You’re just exhausted,” he assured her, “from the mission, the flight, and from the day. Perhaps a nice long soak would make you feel new again.”  
Sophie opened her eyes and looked up into his. “But then you would leave.” she admitted, “I don’t want you to leave.” Harry felt invigorated, and his shoulders lifted as he stood, offering his hand to Sophie. As she took it to rise from the floor, he replied, “I shan’t leave. You go have a lovely soak, and I will prepare the meal and bring you a drink. Then you’ll really be ready to begin your time off.” Sophie tried to smile her appreciation, only to have her smile quiver in uncertainty. So she simply nodded, and began walking toward her bathroom.  
Harry exchanged her record, lowering the needle onto the Beethoven as both of them paused at the pleasure of it from their separate rooms. He poured the wine and walked to the door of the bathroom, trying his best to spare her modesty as he handed it to her. “We may have a slight problem.” he remarked, staring at the other side of the room. “I can’t seem to find your ricer.” Sophie took a much appreciated gulp of the wine before responding, “What is a ricer?”  
Harry, his back still to Sophie, remarked “Nevermind.” He stood there, unsure of what to say when Sophie broke the silence. “I love this record. There’s nothing as joyous as Beethoven, except perhaps Shakespeare.” Harry nodded - he could add nothing to that sentiment. Sophie looked at his back - such a cool, effortless gentleman he appeared to be. How she enjoyed just being in his presence. “I might not be able to make the meal I had planned.” he admitted, “I should have brought the tools I would need, but I am sure I can come up with something.”  
“Harry?” Sophie asked meekly, “Would you wash my hair?” The question floated in the room, childlike and needing, and upon hearing it Harry forgot about the dinner completely. He glanced over his shoulder as Sophie took another sip of her wine. She had had another brief cry, and was attempting to conceal it. “Of course.” he answered, “I would be happy to.” Harry removed his cufflinks, rolling his sleeves to the elbow as he sat on the edge of the bath. He swept her hair in his hands, and Sophie closed her eyes as he massaged her hair in his hands. 

There is a special intimacy when you can be truly vulnerable before another person, and a great reward in being the person one is truly vulnerable with. After Sophie finished her wine and rinsed, she left the bathroom wrapped in her silk robe with her hair tightly wrapped. She didn’t say anything, but squeezed the fingers of Harry’s right hand as she passed him and lay down on her bed. “Don’t go just yet.” She asked as he walked by her, and he turned at the doorway. “I’m not. I’ll be right back.” Harry locked the door and turned the stereo off before returning to the bedroom and sitting at the corner of the bed.  
They sat there in the comfort of the dark until Sophie asked, “Do you think this makes me a bad Kingsman? That I can’t shake this feeling so soon?” Harry nodded once in the darkness - they had come to the heart of the matter. “I think it makes you a great Kingsman. You would have to be a pretty poor agent to not care at all that you’ve taken a life. I hope I never find it easy to kill another person no matter the reason.”  
Sophie said nothing, but Harry felt her foot seek out his leg in the dark. He rested a palm on it and continued, “You know, we all have our ways of dealing with the demands of the job. I once spent the better part of an evening - and a bottle of brandy with Lancelot. He said nothing, just stared at the fireplace and sipped the brandy. And...he didn’t have to make the enemy believe in him, he didn’t have to make love to the enemy or spend months with him…”  
Sophie lifted her head. “Are you saying that my job is harder than his?” Harry stared out for several minutes, giving the question the consideration he knew she deserved before saying simply, “Yes.” Harry then bent down, untied each of his oxfords and slipped them off. He lay down on the bed beside Sophie, who rolled to him when she felt him there. She rested her head on his chest and he wrapped his arm around her. Within minutes, he was listening to her sleep, which pleased him greatly.

 

Sophie stirred at first light, surprised to find herself still in the arms of her guest. As she gazed at him, he woke and looked down at her. In a moment of blissful contentment, she stretched and connected with Harry’s mouth in a sudden but passionate kiss. He took command of the kiss as he became more alert, cradling her face in his free hand. “Good morning.” Sophie greeted once the kiss drew to a close. Harry blinked a few times before turning to check the clock. “Good morning Sophie,” he replied hastily, “and I’m sorry but I will have to go. I have a meeting this morning.”  
As Harry began replacing his oxfords, Sophie sat up and stretched. “I completely understand. I’m sorry to have kept you.” she explained, “I do really appreciate you coming over, even if you had to endure my ricerless kitchen.” Sophie smiled as Harry caught her comment and stopped to look back at her. He began to roll down his shirt and paced back to the bathroom for his cufflinks. He paced back through the bedroom as he replaced them, just as Sophie was rising from her bed.  
“Can I make you a cup of tea?” she offered. Harry glanced past her at the clock and grimaced, “I must not, I’m going to be late already I’m afraid.” He went to the sitting room to retrieve his jacket, but called back as he slipped into it, “We must get together to discuss this further however. So we can decide exactly how to handle this entire situation.” Sophie walked down the hall to the sitting room as Harry collected his glasses and umbrella. “What situation?” she inquired.  
Harry walked to the door, smoothing his suit one final time. He looked better than most crisp young men, yet Sophie was certain he had a shave and a change in his immediate future. He met her puzzled expression and answered, “What situation? That we love each other.” he remarked certainly, “Two spies having what must be a secret but undoubtedly sincere love affair,” he admitted, “It will require careful planning and consideration.” His words dumbfounded Sophie in their directness, but were entirely accurate.  
A smile crept across Sophie’s face when her eyes met Harry’s. She said nothing, but reached the chess board and toppled the queen before looking back at him. He stared at the queen with a look of prideful victory on his face. “Be safe Galahad.” she said simply.  
“Always, Guinevere.” He replied as he closed the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the delicate business of having a secret love affair.

Harry tied his apron around his waist, doubling the straps to tie it against his chest. He opened his small recipe box, rifling through it until he settled on the worn but trusted card where he had made his many adjustments over the years. Staring down at the card, he removed his cufflinks and rolled his sleeves to the elbow before preheating the oven. As he reached the overhead cabinet to retrieve his cooling rack and mixing bowls, Mr.Pickle sprang to life and left his bed to watch from the doorway. He raised a single paw as his tail hopefully wagged behind Harry. “Not today old friend.” Harry said kindly, “Almonds do not agree with dogs I’m afraid.” 

Mr.Pickle lowered to the floor with a slight huff as Harry refocused on crushing the almonds in his pestle. “I’m going to try something a bit different today,” he mused to his companion, “but these are special biscuits.” Harry looked down and Mr. Pickle rolled onto his back, showing his tummy in a bid for affection. “Well, yes…” Harry nodded, “In a manner of speaking.” He added the almonds to the castor sugar and flour, mixing them with his bare hands. “Vanilla sugar…” he mumbled to himself, reaching for the canisters where he kept his homemade ingredients. He brushed his hair from his face as he looked down into the canister, leaving a vivid streak of white from his part and extending across his face. 

After sprinkling in the vanilla sugar, Harry washed his hands and began breaking the eggs, separating them gently between his fingers and dropping the unneeded yolk into a small bowl on the counter. Whisking the whites, he turned to Mr. Pickle, “I know what you are thinking, but it’s cheating to use the mixer.” He explained jovially, “Besides, when making a gift it’s the little strokes that mean the most.” Harry grinned as he continued to lightly whisk the whites until they were ready to join the other mixture. Folding them together, he spooned them onto the rice paper and shaped them as perfectly round as possible. “Now for the bit of posh.” Harry muttered, sprinkling the tops of the cookies with lavender from his garden. 

He carefully patted them down with the underside of his spoon before slipping them into the oven. Closing the door, he rubbed his hands onto his apron before turning to wash up the dishes resting in the sink. As the smell of almonds filled the air, Mr.Pickle returned to his hopeful begging. Harry finished rinsing his mixing bowls, drying them with a dishcloth and stacking them together. He carefully opened the oven door to peer inside before lowering the door and removing the rack. Harry tenderly lifted the paper to the cooling rack before closing the oven and turning it off. Harry admired his creation, picking the unsightliest biscuit to sample. 

Mr. Pickle ran up to him, placing a persistent paw at his shin as he leaned against the counter, chewing silently. “Oh, alright.” Harry capitulated, tossing down a piece to his companion, “But no more.” Mr.Pickle caught the piece and carried it to his bed, victorious. Harry lined the small box with baking paper and once cooled, stacked the biscuits neatly into the box before tying them up with string and placing them beside his attache case. He washed his hands a final time and then untied and replaced his apron on the shelf beside the door. 

 

Sophie walked into the shop and bypassed the counter to head up the stairs to her locker. She slipped off her coat and opened her locker to find a large pink bakery box inside. A curious smile found her as she lifted the box from her locker and pulled the string. As she opened it, the most gorgeous aroma of almonds and lavender wafted up and her smile grew. Sophie looked around, taking one before she closed the box and returned it to her locker. She took a bite, leaning back into the locker as she savoured the delicate perfection in bliss. 

“Guinevere, you’re back early, aren’t you?” Percival asked as he entered the locker room. Sophie swallowed and licked her lips quickly, “I’m just filing paperwork with Edwin,” she began, as Harry and Gareth entered the locker room, “then I’ll be off. I have some gorgeous macaroons from my favourite baker. I think I will take them over to the Maritime Museum.” She explained. Harry nodded, his focus in his locker, “There's nothing like a taste of home when you have been away.” He offered.

 

“Too true. They are quite moreish.” She admitted. Harry turned to her with a queer smirk but said nothing.  
“The museum is an interesting place to spend an afternoon.” Gareth commended, “Schoolchildren not withstanding, of course.”  
Sophie smiled, “I find it beats Dylan Thomas on a good day. Excuse me gentleman.”  
“What a unusual metric.” Gareth laughed, the hint lost on everyone except Harry, who watched her exit the hallway quickly. 

 

Sophie stood in the Baltic Memorial Exchange Exhibit, staring up at the stained glass in silence. She felt the presence, but said nothing nothing as Harry walked up beside her and observed the magnificent presentation. “That was a very clever hint,” he whispered, “No one caught it.”  
“Someone did.” Sophie replied, “Thankfully.”  
They stood together in the silence, looking up at the stained glass in the golden light.  
“I’m going out again soon,” Sophie said, “Child trafficking case. Very serious.” She looked over to him fleetingly, “I’m going to miss Eurovision. Again.”  
Harry smiled, “Do you actually watch Eurovision?” he mused softly.  
“I don’t know why I bother,” Sophie replied, “Ireland will likely win again anyhow.”

Sophie walked over to the bench seat in the corner of the room, sitting on the end of it. Harry stood for several moments, then casually sat on the opposite side of the bench. “I made something for you,” Harry mentioned, setting his bag between them. Sophie retrieved the bag, unwrapping the frame and studying the beautiful green butterfly contained therein. “It’s almost the same shade as your eyes,” Harry explained softly, “Callophrys rubi. Beautiful, isn’t it?”  
“You’re so gorgeous,” Sophie replied, caressing the glass with her fingertips, “do you know that? Or, do you walk around every day unaware that women hold their breath when you are close, intoxicated at the nearness of you?”

 

Sophie sighed, her question rhetorical. Harry examined her face as she traced her fingers along the frame slowly. “I’ll treasure this.” She continued, “But, did the butterfly remind you of me, or did I remind you of the butterfly?’   
Harry answered effortlessly, “Actually, with that lovely gown fresh in my mind, I rather fancy you a little canary, fluttering into my life.” He rested his hand on the bench, his pinky brushing her hand as it gripped hers and caressed her finger with his. Sophie closed her eyes, enjoying the bit of intimacy. “That was the second best thing I’ve ever heard.” She replied, “After, ‘Welcome to Kingsman.’”

“I shall have to try harder in the future.” Harry mused. Sophie stared ahead, their fingers still mingled ever so slightly in the public place. “We must keep ourselves discreet,” she commented, “We can’t have knowledge of our affair complicating either of our careers.”  
Harry nodded, considering her point, “We shall have to be careful. Mindful of when and where we meet.” He added, “Whenever we are available, of course. We must bear in mind any personal entanglements could jeopardize our work.”   
Sophie listened to him, staring ahead to keep their acquaintanceship somewhat private. “We must never forget our oath to Queen and country,” she replied, “Above all things.”

She slipped a macaroon from the box discreetly, breaking it in two and passing half of it to Harry. They chewed it together in silence, staring up at the elaborate and beautiful stained glass together in the low light. He rubbed her finger slowly, and she closed her eyes in blissful acknowledgement as they sat together. “Thank you for the wonderful gifts.” She commented, licking her lips slowly, standing to collect her things. She loomed close to him as she whispered, “I can’t stop thinking of kissing you.” Harry straightened, leaning back to catch her gaze as he collected her bags and walked away silently. She continued down the corridor to the main exhibit when she passed the theater and a hand reached from darkness to pull her in.

“You don’t get to say things like that and simply walk away.” Harry said, pulling her close to him in the dark of the theater. He stood along the back wall, kissing her passionately in the darkness as the dramatic narration of World War II played in the background. “Oh Harry,” Sophie whispered, kissing him again. They sat along the back wall together, trying to keep quiet as explosions play in the screening. “Come to me, Canary,” Harry requested, “See me again before you leave.”  
Sophie blushed, nuzzling his neck and enjoying the moments of stolen affection. “I love that,” she gushed quietly, “always call me that.”

“Of course my love.” Harry soothed, tipping her chin up to meet his lips as he kissed her again. She surrendered to his embrace, and enjoyed the thrill of kissing him in the seclusion of the public place. “Come to me before you go.” He implored. Sophie felt his thumb as it brushed across her lips, watching the HMS Hood as it was blown apart. “Where should we meet?’ She whispered. His hands caressed her delicate jaw line and nestled behind her earlobe, and he brushed a faint kiss against her cheek as he softly spoke into her ear, “Come to my flat. I will encrypt our communication, so you can reach me without any risk of detection.” Sophie met his gaze, nodding her understanding before plunging into one final indulgent kiss. 

 

The lights rose on the theater, but the back of the theater was empty. From separate exits, in two different directions, the Kingsman exited silently into the city. Sophie opened her umbrella, smiling up at the light drizzle as she carried her items and walked along the river. After a few idle kilometers, she closed the umbrella, shaking it before she popped into the local Crown for a drink. She stood at the bar with her umbrella resting on her forearm as she waited to order her Strongbow. Sophie closed her eyes, thoroughly enjoying the first long drink as a random man walked up, “Well, hello hello!” he interjected, a bit too loudly for the environment. Sophie opened her eyes, staring up as if pleading to disappear on the spot.

She stared straight ahead, all mirth leaving her face as the unruly patron continued his pitch. “You’re not from around here,” he guessed, “me and the lads were just out on the crawl when I said to them, ‘that bird is pure class’ so I popped round to say hello.”  
Sophie took another healthy drink, trying to aggressively ignore her pest. When he leaned on the bar, looming into her periphery, she set the glass down firmly.  
“What’s amatter, love? I’m only saying hello to you. Let me buy your drink, you know it makes sense.” He continued, waving the bartender over. Sophie could hear his group cheering him on from a booth in the corner, and she’d never wanted to finish a pint so badly in her life.

“Listen,” she said firmly, “since my subtlety has failed, let me be clear. I’d simply like to finish this drink, alone, and be on my way. Please do go away.” She turned back to her drink while the idiot turned back to his boys for encouragement. “Don’t be like that love.” He said, “Here, tell us about your butterfly there. Do you collect them or something?” He lifted her frame to examine it, setting Sophie’s teeth on edge. She looked angrily at him, but he was oblivious to this and he leaned back on the bar. “So, why are you wearing a suit anyhow? Is that the new thing?” he asked.  
Sophie turned away from the bar, and lifted her umbrella in her arm before turning it and gripping the ribs. She turned back to him but said nothing.

“Listen, you may as well have the drink.” He reasoned, “I’m not going away, right, and you can tell me about your butterflies and why you dress like a bloke…”   
Sophie turned, and quickly hooked his knee with the umbrella, pulling it from under him and slamming his head into the bar. He crumpled to the ground and the corner booth fell silent. Sophie returned to her cider, finishing it in one drink. “Can I possibly pay you for any damage I might’ve done to the bar?” She offered the pub manager, who waved her away with a robust laugh. “It’s seen worse in it’s day.” He assured, looking down at the patron, “Think he’s alright?”  
“I think it’s a vast improvement.” Sophie replied, collecting her things.

“You could’ve killed him!” Cried another member of his party, “That’s not right like.”  
“Yes,” Sophie affirmed, “I could have.”  
The men surrounded their friend, collecting him from the floor at her feet while Sophie watched. “He’ll suffer little more than a moderate headache and a bruised ego, but I’d suggest that you ‘lads’ remember for him, so perhaps in the future he’ll be a bit wiser for the wear.” Sophie didn’t await a response, nodding gratefully at the manager before she walked out of the pub and into the evening air. She ensured there was no damage to her precious butterfly before hailing a taxi, but stifled the tiniest chuckle as she sat in her taxi home.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie meets a true villain, and faces her next great mission.

“Mr. Theophilus?” Sophie asked, walking into the office. It was the quintessential office of any powerful British male - wood paneling, the scent of well seasoned leather, and age.  
“Mrs. Clarke,” He replied warmly, rising from behind his desk to shake her hand firmly, “it is a pleasure to meet you.”  
“Honoria, please.” She offered with a wave, “I appreciate your meeting with me. I know you are in such demand.”  
He offered a seat, which Sophie took, crossing her legs as he returned to his desk. “Well, I don’t often meet people,” he admitted, “but when Chester King recommends knowing someone you make an exception. You must be close - sharing a tailor.”  
Sophie laughed, “That old sod. He and my father are always up to some mischief.”  
“Do I know your father?” Theophilus asked, and Sophie shook her head.  
“Doubtful. My father has investment interests which keep him abroad,” Sophie explained, “sequestered...you understand.”

“You’re a very understanding daughter.” Theophilus replied.  
“My father has given me everything.” Sophie countered, “I owe him my complete devotion.”  
Theophilus nodded, “What brings you to me?”  
“I’d like to begin a few investments of my own. I am an adult, and it won’t do to continue depending on the trust.” Sophie explained, “My father is a self-made man. I aspire to have the same legacy, that means not involving him in my endeavors.”  
Theophilus raised an eyebrow, intrigued as he pressed a button at his desk. Moments later the door opened and a trolley arrived, offering tea to Sophie. She smiled, accepting the cup and resting it in her hands as the service continued to his desk.  
“My business is not without risks,” Theophilus clarified, “There are many forms of collateral. Forgive me for asking, but you are a young woman - have you considered what your husband might one day think of this?”

Sophie sipped her tea quietly, slowly setting the fine china cup onto its saucer. “I am aware of real world indemnity.” She replied, “No doubt you looked into my affairs and pedigree, and you know I am sound on paper. This is not coincidence - I intend to keep my affairs private.” Sophie fixed her piercing green eyes on him confidently, blinking slowly as she confided, “As for husbands, let us say that my appetites lay...elsewhere.” Sophie handed her teacup back back to the charlady before straightening her tie and returning her focus to Theophilus.  
“Chester was right about you.” Theophilus commented in jest.  
“Tell Chester I don’t care what he thinks.” Sophie remarked, smirking.  
This made Theophilus laugh as Sophie uncrossed her legs and checked her watch.  
“I think you like me,” Sophie flirted, “but you are pragmatic. I appreciate that.” She stood, pacing around the chair, “After all, a friendly recommendation is not sufficient to assure a sound venture.”

“What do you propose?” Theophilus asked.  
Sophie smiled confidently - she had him and she knew it. “I should make an initial investment, perhaps £5,000,000, and then we could have a look at the plans for our expansion. That way all parties have invested and can go forward in full disclosure.”  
Theophilus leaned forward, “Are you prepared to make that investment?”  
“For dividends to be the expected, capital must be offered,” Sophie said, “that is the way of it.”  
She walked to his desk, resting her palms on the polished wood as she concluded, “I could have this investment wired before close of business today. We could we toasting at the Savoy tonight.”  
Theophilus stood, rounding his desk and shaking Sophie’s hand firmly. “To a profitable friendship, Honoria.” he said happily, “Let’s have Chester join us for that drink.”  
“Yes, let’s.” Sophie confirmed affably.

 

Sophie entered the shop and walked straight to the board room. “That’s quite a friend you have.” She remarked sarcastically as Arthur looked up, “Are you free this evening?”  
Arthur waved, rifling through his file as Sophie met him, “I’ve already received the call,” he explained, “and Merlin has taken care of the wire. All is set for the evening. The Savoy, 730PM.”  
Harry walked in, slowing his pace and reaching for his glasses. Sophie said nothing, taking a seat and adjusting her glasses as Arthur read aloud from his file. His attention diverted, Sophie made direct eye contact with Harry, followed by batting her eyes in a sort of pattern. Harry lifted his notebook, keeping his glasses aimed as Sophie blinked her correspondence. 

“.. / --. --- / --- ..- - / ... --- --- -.” Sophie blinked, examining Arthur’s notes. Harry allowed his translator to decipher her note so he could maintain his nonchalance.  
_I go out soon._  
Harry rolled his eyes up, pondering before they drifted down, blinking in response. Sophie nodded to Arthur as Harry replied, “ -.-. --- -- . / - --- / -- . / - --- -. .. --. .... -”  
_Come to me tonight._  
Sophie smiled slightly, licking her lips as she turned Arthur’s paper down and took a note onto the back of the paper. She sighed, blinking as she took the note. Stroking her chin with her pen and pointing at Arthur, she replied, “.. / -.-. .- -. .----. - --..-- / .. .----. -- / -.. .-. .. -. -.- .. -. --. / .-- .. - .... / .--. .. .-.. .-.. --- -.-. -.- …”  
_I can’t, I’m drinking with Pillocks._  
Harry stifled a chuckle, clearing his throat as Sophie rolled her eyes. She handed the paper back to Arthur, answering his questions regarding their plan as she blinked slowly to Harry, “ - --- -- --- .-. .-. --- .-- ..--..”  
_Tomorrow?_  
Harry smiled, taking a deep breath and giving an affirming nod. He jotted the information Arthur needed as Sophie stood, removed her glasses and started toward the door. “Seven thirty?” She confirmed. Both men answered, “Yes.” Harry looked up, puzzled, as Arthur continued reading the report. “I will be there.” Sophie assured them, separately, before leaving the board room.

 

Mr. Pickle sat up, placing a paw on Harry’s leg in a futile effort to gain his attention. Harry removed his jacket, flexing his braces and ignoring his dog as he paced around his office. He glanced at the clock before looking down at his companion. “Not tonight, I’m afraid.” He explained, “Come along old friend.” He walked to the kennel, opening the door and allowing Mr. Pickle to trot dutifully in before locking him inside. Harry didn’t know why he was anxious, but he did feel as though this evening was somehow legitimate in a way the previous night hadn’t been. He was doing his gentlemanly duty that night so many months ago, aiding a fellow Kingsman. This night was different. Harry finished his martini, turning the glass between his fingers as he remembered Sophie in her yellow tulle. No woman had so completely lodged in his thoughts before. As his hall clock chimed, he set the glass on his desk and looked out over his balcony.

Sophie rounded onto Stanhope Mews from Harrington Gardens, walking up slowly and looking for Harry. She looked up, smiling as she recognized him, but Harry could only stare. Sophie was wearing a red and white halter dress adorned in roses and tied behind her neck with a deep red bow. Her hair was swept and fastened into place, and her heels elongated her willowy frame and perfectly completed the look. He gave a gentle wave, and as Sophie’s walk took a more direct pace, Harry left his window to meet her at the door. Her gloved hand scarcely reached to knock before Harry opened it and reached for her. Sophie stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over the decor of his flat. “Your home is sublime,” she gushed, “it’s very… well, you.”  
Harry stepped closer to her, intercepting her clutch clumsily. “May I take your bag?” He offered, “Can I offer to make you a drink?” Sophie chuckled, shrugging as she offered her clutch to him and watched him turn to set it on the dining table.

“I can’t have a drink I’m afraid,” Sophie bemusingly admitted, “I go out in the morning so I have to stay crisp.” Harry turned back as Sophie confirmed, “I report back at HQ in ten hours.”  
Harry took her in his arms, sweeping her from the threshold and close to him. “Then let’s not waste a moment.” He proposed, kissing her passionately as his hands clutched her bare back and hip. “You’re right.” Sophie agreed, running a gloved finger down his lower lip and chin before lacing her fingers with his, “Take me to bed Harry Hart.”  
Harry’s expression vacillated between tender hesitance and pure lust as he lead Sophie to his bedroom, and she gasped slightly as he opened the door to expose the candlelit room and four poster bed. “It’s like something from a fairy tale,” Sophie giggled. Harry beamed, holding her hand as she ascended the steps to the bed before pushing them over to step closer to her.  
“Which fairy tale?” He asked innocently, gently reaching to unclasp her hair and release it.  
“The one where all the girl’s dreams come true,” she effused.

Harry smirked, pleased beyond containment as he gingerly gripped the underside of each of Sophie’s knees, pulling them apart and pressing into the space between them. “Folie à Deux,” he replied succinctly. Sophie gripped his braces playfully, replying, “Oui absolument! Je suis délirant en ton présence.” Sophie giggled softly to herself before falling silent nervously. “I’m terrible at flirting when I really fancy someone,” she admitted, “I always wind up blurting out ‘I want you!’ or something equally embarrassing.” Harry gazed at her for several moments with a queer smile. “You are brilliant,” He replied absolutely, brushing his nose against hers and kissing her slowly. His hands captured her face, and she wrapped her gloved hands around them as his tongue explored her eager mouth. He pulled back, gently lifting Sophie’s skirt and petticoat up to expose her silk stockings and garters. Harry look hungrily at them, running his finger under the garter curiously as he examined. “I rather like these,” he murmured, “could they remain without disturbing removal of other items?”

Sophie tucked her lower lip behind her front teeth, letting it slowly scrape as it returned. “I shouldn’t wonder,” she replied charmingly, “there are no panties to disrupt.” Harry looked up, a mischievous eyebrow raised as he considered her admission. Sophie took advantage of his lull, pulling her gloved fingers to loosen them one at a time a she slipped her hands from each glove before pairing them and dropping them carelessly off the edge of the bed. Her red glossy nails caught the candlelight as she reached behind her head and pulled the red ribbons of the bow, lowering the halter sides of the dress and exposing her breasts to Harry. Harry took her cheek in his left hand, kissing her lips as began unbuttoning his shirt absentmindedly. Sophie pulled back, turning to open the small side zipper at her waist and allow Harry to undress as she slipped out the dress. It slipped to the floor as she pushed up to the center of the bed and reclined in her stockings. 

Sophie thought to remove her heels, only to have Harry beat her to the task as he slipped each heel from her foot slowly. Now in his pants, he took the steps up to his bed, lying beside her and stroking her hair away from her face as he admired it. Sophie stared up at this Adonis which orbited her, reaching up to tenderly touch his face as he leaned down and nuzzled her neck and kiss her chest. His left leg slipped between hers, which fell open to him as he drew his fingers across the stockings on her right leg. A slight moan emanated from Sophie as Harry shifted above her, her arms wrapping around him as he pressed to her and kissed her face. “I’ve thought of you so many times,” Harry whispered, kissing her temple, “while you were away.”  
“You thought of me?” Sophie asked modestly, “I thought of you too, late at night, when I felt alone.” Sophie smiled, brushing her nose against his chin, “Of course, I felt silly - you were my beacon of British certainty and I didn’t even know if you liked me at all or if you were just being a gentleman.” 

Harry caressed her face as he moved to meet her eyes, “I love you,” he bashfully confided, “I fell for you that night, then walked around for months in a fog. You were the melody I couldn’t get out of my head before realizing,” he added with a gentle kiss to her forehead, “that I didn’t want to.” Sophie’s smile grew and she leaned up to kiss Harry, her back leaving the mattress as she pursued the taste of her beloved. She felt him pull his pants away, then cradle her neck as he kissed her deeply. Sophie held her breath as she felt him inside her - that sensation she had craved for so very long. Harry too, it seemed, for his longing seemed satiated merely at pulling her close and being one with her. He slipped his hand inside the underside of her garter, pulling her thigh against him as he squeezed her backside. With each wonderful thrust Sophie’s expression slipped further into a puzzle of strained pleasure as she moaned blissfully. 

“The straps, would they work the other way?” Sophie asked cheekily. Harry looked at her puzzled, pulling away from her as she rolled over onto her stomach. Sophie looked back impishly as Harry slipped his hands into each garter and pulled her body against his. This time Sophie nestled her face in her arms, lifting her hips to meet her lover. Harry was more than happy to accommodate her, resuming to their mutual delight. “My word Canary,” Harry playfully remarked, “however did you think of this?” He pulled her against him with powerful, deep thrusts which made Sophie revel in soft whimpers. Her moans grew louder before dying softly in waves. “I have a lot of time to think about us.” She explained, “Arthur talks so much.” Harry chortled, “With respect,” he replied.  
“Of course,” Sophie concurred.

“You know,” Sophie cooed, “you don’t have to be so gentle with me.” She threw a lustful look over her shoulder up at Harry who immediately pulled her harder, pounding into her. Sophie pushed her face into the bedspread and cried out loudly as Harry worked to a fever pitch against her trembling, submissive body. Feeling her tighten drove Harry wild, and he roared as he reached for Sophie’s back and held her sides. As she came, Sophie panted and threw her hair away from her face as she slid down to the cool of the bedspread. Overcome with her pleasure, Harry pulled away from her as he cried out in ecstasy. Sophie lay still, simply breathing as she returned to normal, so Harry quietly slipped across the hall to refresh himself before returning to her.

“You know,” Harry commented aloud as he returned to the bed, “I like being so gentle with you.” Sophie rolled onto her side, facing him and he stroked her back softly. “I don’t want to be...like others.” He explained, trailing away and leaving the knowledge of his reference in the air. Sophie hadn’t thought of how he felt about the work - the work was simply to be done. She hadn’t considered he might wonder about it, or even worry. Sophie inched over to his chest, hugging to him and hiding her face in his neck. “There are no others,” Sophie mumbled, “You’re the only man who touches me...who makes me feel..” She shook her head, not quite able to find the words but expressing her sentiment without them. Harry held her close to him, feeling their skin together as he rolled onto his back and she held to his side. “I love you Harry.” Sophie whispered.

The candles were beginning to extinguish themselves, dimming the glow in the warm room. Her words hung in the air, thick with their potency. They both knew their feelings were returned, but the hearing it - the power in her meek but honest declaration filled Harry with an overwhelming feeling of prideful contentment. He said nothing, simply squeezing her to him joyously in the now growing darkness. “You have a few hours before you must leave,” Harry said softly, “if you would like to sleep.” He kissed her forehead, and Sophie sighed contented.  
“I’ll sleep on the flight.” she remarked, “I don’t want to waste a minute of this time.”  
Harry smiled at the comment, lifting from their embrace and rolling Sophie onto her back. He traced down her stomach with little kisses, pressing his cheek to her soft flat abdomen and letting her draw her fingers through his hair. He kissed her hand, kissing up to her breasts when she confessed, “I’m frightened Harry.”  
He immediately ceased his affections, sitting up in the darkness to focus on her. “Of what, Canary?” He asked sweetly, taking her hand in his.  
“This man Theophilus,” she explained, “he’s evil. Really evil.”  
“As was Rovshan, and he’s dead now.” Harry said, matter-of-fact, “You stopped him and that was a first outing.”  
“He almost killed me,” Sophie said seriously, “Before I killed him, he almost killed me.”  
Harry sat up considering the information. “That wasn’t in your report.”  
“Of course it wasn’t.” Sophie replied.  
There was a telling silence before Sophie explained further. Harry held her hand, saying nothing to allow her time to find her words. “He was strangling me, and I almost lost consciousness when I got the bracelet around his throat.” Sophie said plainly, “I was terrified.”  
Harry reached to the top of the bed, retrieving a pillow and lifted Sophie to prop her up comfortably. He carefully swept her hair from under her head, letting it spill across the pillow as he looked lovingly at her.

“May I say something?” He gently asked.  
“Of course.” She answered.  
“I know, from experience, that those moments when we face death can be rather frightful. Only a fool would try to imagine they are beyond fear. However, what I took from your trauma is that when you were most endangered,” he explained, taking a slight pause, “you kept your wits about you and used your tools. That’s your training at work, and with experience you will get better at that, not worse.” Harry grasped her hand, kissing it for emphasis, “It is not luck, so you needn’t worry that ‘this time you might be unlucky.’ It’s proof that you are not relying on luck at all.” Harry concluded with a final thoughtful, “humpf,” before staring out into the darkness.  
Sophie pulled his forearm, drawing him close to her and into her embrace. She kissed him, her lips brushing his as she inhaled, wishing to taste his breath as he leaned back down to her. 

“You know, the hero never knows they are in the story,” Harry commented, “They are usually busy saving the world.” He nibbled Sophie’s ear, kissing the lobe as she giggled softly. “Are you the hero of your story?” Sophie asked dreamily, and Harry stopped to study her face. “Me?” he laughed, “I’m just an average chap.” This made Sophie laugh, so he continued, “A mild-mannered tailor, that’s my story.” He rubbed noses with her before kissing her shoulders, “Besides, this isn’t my story - it’s yours.” Sophie sighed, elated at his description as he continued small, soft kisses along her chest. She tousled his hair as she looked up at the ceiling.  
“It can’t be my story,” she reasoned, “you’re the hero in my story.”  
Harry looked up from her chest, pressing his returned arousal to her as he looked into her eyes.  
“Oh my goodness Mr. Hart.” Sophie gasped as Harry leaned up to kiss her. She shivered, and he pulled the duvet up over them both as she moaned happily in the dark, and continued into the night. 

At dawn, Sophie slipped away from her slumbering hero, gathered her things and slipped out to catch her taxi to convene with Edwin at HQ. As she sat in the back of the cab pinning her hair, she lifted the single glove, wondering where she dropped its partner before returning to her face.

 

“Honoria!” Theophilus called, waving to her. Sophie gave a wave as she crossed the runway to his plane, her luggage carried by an assistant who followed behind her. Sophie grasped her umbrella as she walked over and shook Theophilus’ hand firmly. “Mr. Theophilus, hello again.” She began, “Please forgive me if I’m a bit slow today, I had an eventful night.” Sophie kept the tint turned up on her glasses, allowing her to film everything without suspicion.  
“Call me Albert,” Theophilus corrected jovially, “that playboy lifestyle catches up to all of us in time. You’ll find it’s not worth it soon enough. Turn in, rise early and make money.”  
“I’ll have to bear that in mind.” Sophie replied dryly, “So, where are we going Albert? And, why on Earth are we going at this hour?” Theophilus gestured to the staircase, allowing Sophie to ascend them ahead of him. “Ladies first,” he commented, “and this hour is about flight times. You’ll want to miss the heat, it’s unbearable.” 

Theophilus followed up the stairs, entering the cabin as Sophie sat sipping a mimosa in one of the leather seats. “In a few weeks, there’s going to be general election in Cambodia.” He began, “It’s going to result in a hung parliament, but the Funcinpec party will be very sympathetic to our needs in the future. It’s going to be a great time to do business.” Sophie listened, sipping her mimosa as she slipped her sunglasses off and set them on the table facing Theophilus to record. “That’s why it’s a very good time to invest,” he continued, “our stock is about triple in value. The price per head is going to skyrocket within the next 24 months, and there will be entirely new markets opening up as well.” Theophilus accepted his mimosa, taking a drink before he turned back to Sophie, “You are welcome to use the cabin if you’d like to rest. We have fourteen hours ahead of us.” Sophie said nothing, but lifted her head and turned to Theophilus, who nodded to confirm the number before reclining in his seat.

Sophie stood under her umbrella opening her coat, “So much for missing the heat.” she commented, annoyed. Theophilus walked ahead of her through the brush, amused at her response. “We did miss the heat,” he replied, “it’s not the heat that’s bothering you, it’s the humidity. You will get used to it.” He stopped along a nondescript dirt road and turned to her.  
“I’m wearing wool.” Sophie huffed, “Had I been told we were going to Cambodia, my valet could’ve packed more appropriately.”  
“Had I told you we were going to Cambodia, you would have told your valet.” Theophilus argued, “Then, if you weren’t fully on board, I’d have had two problems instead of one.”  
“Such drama.” Sophie scoffed, meeting him along the road, “I could be in a dress right now.”  
“I love the young people,” Theophilus joked, “You are so morally unencumbered.”

Sophie laughed at this summation, removing her glasses momentarily to dab the sweat from her eyes as they stood together. Suddenly, a large truck pulled alongside the road to collect them from the side of the road, driven by what appeared to be college students. “Careful getting in,” Theophilus instructed as two cheerful students reached down to pull her up. Sophie quickly closed her umbrella and reached up to climb into the back of the truck. “Not far now,” he assured her. Sophie looked around at the students, all in brightly-coloured t-shirts with “Prospero Volunteer” printed on the back. The truck pulled into a large camp filled with volunteers and children. Sophie noted that there seemed to be no native adults in the camp at all. As the truck stopped, the volunteers unloaded goods while Sophie stood and met Theophilus at the center. “What do you see before you?” Theophilus asked, spreading his arms to the camp. Sophie studied the scene. “A charity write off and optimists wasting their gap year?” She replied.

“Children.” Theophilus said grandly, “They’re are most obvious, least tapped resource here on Earth.” Sophie said nothing, tilting her head in mild confusion so Theophilus continued, “In the new global economy, we simply cannot afford to ignore the value of children. They’re everywhere, and their applications are endless.” Theophilus pointed to a large group of volunteers building a bonfire as the children ate bread, “And the best part is, with our charity workers on the ground floor, we are bulletproof. Every failing government on this Earth rolls out the red carpet for our aid, and those idiots volunteer to come over and do all the labour! It’s perfect: they run the feedlots, we get the write offs, and the customer gets the finished cattle.” Sophie swallowed hard, trying to steady herself as she looked at all the children sitting around the bonfire. “Where do we find the customer for such a product?” She asked, keeping her voice flat. “Are you kidding?” He replied amused, “We have them everywhere. That was the easy part.”

Sophie slowly released her breath to keep herself still. She wanted to kill him right then and there but she knew that wouldn’t stop this. With her dread mounting, she turned back to him, “Do we train them? What’s the turnaround?” Sophie asked. She tapped her glasses, taking snaps of the location and children to file in her report. “Some of them go to sweatshops, but that cattle is paid for before the training begins.” Theophilus explained, “Then there’s the sex industry…” he added with a laugh, “who are quite insistent that we not train the cattle at all.” Sophie felt ill, looking out at the camp. “Of course, there are always the troublemakers.” Theophilus said ominously, “but even that serves a purpose. Do you have any idea what a single lung is worth on the open market?” Sophie shook her head, her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses. “I imagine a desperate person might pay...anything for something like that.”  
Theophilus rested his hand confidently on her shoulder, “Exactly.” 

“We have tried convincing these people to breed less, to build their infrastructure, to embrace technology and leave their caves - nothing worked! That’s when I realized: we aren’t angry at chickens and cows for not joining us because we put them to use.” Theophilus looked out at his camp with an eerie calm, satisfied at seeing his plan come to fruition. “The future of human evolution is embracing human cattle.” Theophilus turned to Sophie, “So, what do you say?”  
Sophie felt dizzy, and sat back down in the back of the truck. “This wool is killing me,” Sophie deflected as she removed her coat, “Why did you bring me out here? You could’ve told me all of this at the Savoy while I had my gin.” Sophie masked her rage as annoyance, looking up at Theophilus, but he only laughed at her comment. “You have to see firsthand what we are doing before you climb aboard.” He justified, “Once you have seen the site, I know I can trust you. You’d be amazed how many men got here only to get sick or begin talking to me about humanity.” Theophilus scoffed, “No stomach for business, not a thought for the future.”

Sophie sniffed audibly, standing to face Theophilus, “I thought this was business,” she sneered, “Honestly Albert, I don’t introduce myself to my steak before I eat. This seems unnecessary.” Sophie gave an exaggerated glance backward, trying not to settle on any of the faces as she commented, “Humanity without, but what do I have in common with a bunch of orphans?” She replaced her coat, hopping down from the truck and brushing her hands before reaching for her umbrella, “They’re filthy, and surplus, and if by helping them we help ourselves, well…” Sophie paced slowly, her wile navigating to hide any emotion. “Please tell me there is a proper resort of some nature here and not some dreadful yurt of something.” Sophie’s tone was disgust, but Theophilus was very pleased as he listened. “You know Honoria,” he replied as he hopped down from the truck and offered his hand, “I think you’re going to prove a great edition to our little group.” Sophie shook his hand and he assured, “No yurt though, I’m afraid.”

“So we are returning to a hotel?” Sophie asked as their hands parted, “I would murder you for a gin and tonic. I suppose it’s too much to hope for someplace clubable.”  
“You’re so young,” Theophilus remarked, “You don’t yet realize: everything exists for wealth. We can do whatever we want, go wherever we want and the world opens up for us.” He waved as the helicopter came into view, “You need to dream bigger.”  
Sophie clutched her umbrella as she looked up, “Right now I’m dreaming of a suite and a long bath. Have you a Dorchester in the jungle?”  
Theophilus chuckled, “Something like that.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How do you cope when there is hatred in your heart?" She asked.

Within an ageing and seemingly derelict building, the titans of wealth and power were engaging in pleasure. A fraternity of the darkest order, virtually anything was available in these chambers for the right price. Sophie followed Theophilus into the lounge, still wilted from the oppressive humidity. She studied the bar, scanning the faces as they chummed up to obvious prostitutes, adults and children alike. Sophie hoped to identify as many as possible for prosecution, thoroughly disgusted at the sight. “Gin and tonic is your drink, correct?” Theophilus asked, and Sophie nodded, half listening as she attempted to document the lounge completely. “Listen, I know you were uncomfortable today, but let’s not queer the pitch tonight.” Theophilus said, “Battambang can be a lot of fun in the right circumstances, give it a go.”  
“I really just need a shower,” Sophie covered, “perhaps I could refresh and meet you back at the bar?” Sophie cocked her head toward the bar, “It would be a shame to waste the evening.”

“Brilliant!” Theophilus cheered, waving a waitress over, “Anna here will show you to your suite, won’t you Anna?” Sophie looked as the young waitress nodded sweetly before turning to show her to her room. “Anna?” Sophie asked, raising an eyebrow. Theophilus laughed, patting her back, “Call her whatever you want, she’ll answer to it.” he replied, “See you when you return.”  
Sophie turned, following ‘Anna’ out of the lounge and down a long hallway to a bank of rooms. Sophie noted the armed guard past the entry, who diverted their eyes as she walked by. Reaching her room, ‘Anna’ slipped the key into the door and as Sophie entered the room she discovered her baggage awaiting her. She heard the door close as she walked to her bags, sighing loudly, she heard another voice from the door. She turned back to see ‘Anna’ standing against the door. “I came to welcome you?” She said, a slight question in her tone. Sophie stared at her as ‘Anna’ walked over and tried to remove her coat. “I’m very good,” she boasted, “You will like it.” 

Sophie immediately backed away from her, her mouth agape as she tried to consider what to do. ‘Anna’ stared back at her, puzzled and afraid, and Sophie considered how to handle the situation. She set her train case on the bed, pressing a button on the back to find and cancel any surveillance devices within the room before she continued. “How old are you?” Sophie asked slowly. ‘Anna’ held her elbow, rubbing it nervously. Sophie noticed her unease and raised a hand to calm her, “Hey, it’s okay,” she soothed, “I’m not going to make trouble.” Sophie gestured to the bed for ‘Anna’ to sit down, and removed her coat. Rolling her cuffs to the forearm, she tried again, “How old are you, love?”  
“...fourteen.” ‘Anna’ replied quietly.  
Sophie lowered to a squat, looking up at ‘Anna’ as the information struck her.  
“You will like it.” ‘Anna’ tried again, looking down at Sophie.

“Do you know what I would like?” Sophie proffered, pulling her money clip from her trousers. “Can you use these?” Sophie produced British pounds, which ‘Anna’ eagerly nodded upon seeing. “Good,” Sophie said, removing the clip and peeling several bills from the clip, “I want you to take this money and I want want you to go straight home. Do you understand? Go home, and if anyone stops or asks you anything tell them Mr. Theophilus told you to go.” Sophie stood, handing the cash over to ‘Anna’ as she sat beside her. “Be sure to put that money someplace safe,” Sophie instructed, “Can you do that?” ‘Anna’ eagerly nodded, tucking the money into her shirt. “I will go home now.” she replied. Sophie nodded, a weak smile on her face.  
“What is your name?” Sophie asked as she started for the door.  
“Nakry.” she answered.  
“Be safe on your way home, Nakry.” Sophie replied, watching as she left the room before locking the door behind her. 

Sophie walked back the bed, opening her suitcase to reveal a secret compartment. She placed her glasses into the compartment to begin uploading stored images as she removed her tie, sighing on her way to the shower. The shower was piping hot, and Sophie quickly showered, turning over the information of how many children might be in this building right now. Sophie stepped from the shower, walking straight to her case and opening her weapons compartment. Pulling her gun and as many clips as she could find. “C’mon, Edwin.” She mumbled, frustrated.  
Chambering a round, she grabbed a dress and her block heels while shaking out her hair.

Sophie made no effort to silence the weapon, walking from room to room as she kicked the bamboo door open and shot anyone she saw with a child. “Go home.” She calmly instructed each child as they ran from the carnage. Tossing her lighter at the bank of hired protection at the end of the hall, it exploded as she continued down the hall on her singular mission. As the noise alerted those further down the hall, Sophie easily shot any them as they emerged and attempted to run. Reaching the end of the hall, Sophie dropped low, sweeping into the lounge and ducking behind the bar. “Leave. Now.” She commanded at the bar staff huddled behind the bar. Removing her heels from her shoes, Sophie stripped the aluminum cover from the underside and tossed them in either direction, sending gas out over the scattering, drunk crowd. Reloading her weapon, Sophie peered over the bar and picked off each head as it emerged from the smoke. 

As the commotion died down, Sophie cautiously walked out from the bar and stalked the room looking for Theophilus. She found him under a table, and flipping it away from her she was approached by two bodyguards. Sophie gripped her pistol by the frame, punching the first bodyguard and breaking his nose before she pulled the compact blade from her hair and threw it at the second bodyguard. It struck him center mass, sending him flying backward as she shot the first bodyguard in the face. Turning back, she faced Theophilus as he cried up at her, “Honoria, what are you doing?” Sophie sneered, grabbing Theophilus by his scalp and pulling him away from his table. “You and I are going to have a conversation,” she said evenly, “and you’ve seen what I do with disagreeable sorts so I suggest you tell me what I want to know.” With Theophilus on his knees, and Sophie holding her pistol at her side, she barely heard the knocking. Yet it persisted - shaking her from her fantasy.

“What is it?” She demanded from the sink in her lavatory. “I am supposed to inform you that the Baccarat will be beginning soon.” A voice called from her door. Sophie took a deep breath, wiping the condensation from the mirror and staring back at her reflection. Instead of gripping her pistol and repeatedly punching Theophilus in his face, she will be sipping gin and gambling alongside him. “Thank you.” She called, her tone curt. She looked back at herself, centered in her resolve that she would get that monster in due course. Sophie took a deep breath, dropped her towel, and walked into the bedroom to dress for the evening. Shaking out her curls, she retrieved her glasses and opened her case to dress, longing for the night to be over.

 

Sophie returned to HQ straightaway, typing her report in the black cab as it slowly drove through London’s busy midday streets. She had nearly two weeks of video for the tech team to sort through, and was feverishly jotting down everything she could from her daily notations concerning those who came and went to the nightly events. Theophilus was opening channels with the Cambodian government, and even as Sophie typed the votes of that fateful election were being counted. “Do you mind if I listen to the game coverage, Miss?” The driver inquired. Sophie looked up absentmindedly, “Certainly,” she replied, “softly please.”  
“Thank you Miss.” The driver replied, turning on the World Cup qualifier as Sophie typed her observations into her report. The cab pulled up to the shop and lingered as she continued typing unaware. “Miss..” the driver commented, clearing his throat.  
“Yes,” Sophie replied, closing her briefcase, “thank you.”

“So, as you can see, the operation is in infancy but is gaining traction fast.” Sophie reported to the table. Arthur examined photographs on the panel while Sophie relayed the statistics to Percival, Lancelot, and Merlin. Harry was on a mission outside of England and only popped in via hologram to report location and return to his work. “It will require deployment, in time, but for now the collateral damage is simply too high with the number of innocent Prospero International volunteers on the grounds. In addition to that, it will be essential to see how this government forms.” Sophie explained, “The mission will need to be in two legs - to extract the volunteers and protect the refugees, and then to detain the officials and destroy the distribution hub.” Sophie closed the panel from her tablet, “I believe to thoroughly document and investigate Prospero's reach, it will be another six months in the field working alone.” She looked to Arthur as he read her report. “I could gladly lend a hand in this investigation if you believe it to be beneficial Guinevere.” Percival offered. 

Before Sophie could answer, Arthur interjected, “I believe Guinevere has this in hand,” he said, “She’s well situated in the inner circle. Another presence might jeopardize that.” Sophie cut a piercing glare at Arthur. “Thank you Arthur,” she said nicely, “and you, Percival.” Sophie added with a shrug, “I...have it under control.” Arthur closed his file and huffed, “Is this all?” he asked.  
Sophie swept the table with a wide-eyed stare, pushing away from the table without comment.  
“Guinevere, report to Edwin before you leave,” Arthur called out to her, “he wanted to discuss something regarding your brassiere. I believe that’s what he said.” Sophie stopped, her back to Arthur before replying, “Yes. Thank you Arthur.” Sophie continued out of the board room and through the back to the lift to meet Edwin at HQ. Once alone in the lift, she leaned against the paneling and shook her head, laughing sickly at the exchange for pulling herself up to exit unaffected. 

“Hello Edwin.” Sophie said brightly, “I understand you wanted to see me?” Edwin was adding a blue liquid into a fishbowl with an eye dropper, recording the water as the blue liquid diluted into the fishbowl. He set his clipboard down and adjusted his goggles before lifting a hammer and striking the fishbowl. The bowl shattered, leaving the water solidly formed in the shape of the fishbowl. “Brilliant.” Edwin murmured, standing proudly before he turned to Sophie. “Guinevere,” he replied pleasantly, “I have something for you in the lab.” Sophie watched, intrigued as Edwin stuck his pen into the solidified water, where it remained suspended before leading her to the retinal scanner at the entrance to the lab. “You requested we add as many weapons as possible to your regular clothing, and I think we’ve met your challenge. Have a look.”

Sophie examined the brassiere as Edwin opened the display and handed it to him. “This embroidery is blinding,” Sophie complemented, “Did you do this Edwin?” Sophie smiled at Edwin, who blushed mildly as he cleared his throat and thumbed through his clipboard. “Now, if you’ll examine here you’ll see that we addressed your note about a more uniform holster. Under the left cup there is a holster which will hold a compact pistol and the right has a second clip.” Edwin described, turning the bra over to show the opening. Sophie hummed thoughtfully as he continued, “In addition, there are four petite throwing blades within the balconette seams, and the straps detach.” Sophie examined the straps, impressed at his detail. “That is wonderful,” she mentioned, “you know, that’s such a helpful feature for women.” Edwin nodded before adding, “Well, it is also because the straps double as a bone and metalwork saw. For your protection, you will have to burn the fabric away before use.”

Sophie chuckled as she turned the bra over. “The padding is a bit uneven.” She remarked, and Edwin tilted his head sideways, “That’s so your bust isn’t uneven with wear. We should really get a fit to make final adjustments. Also, once you’ve exhausted these tools, untying the little bow in the front separates the cups and primes them. They are flash grenades.” Sophie laughed, delighted at the Edwin’s work. “This is proper spy equipment. I love it,” Sophie gushed, “you are deadly Edwin.” Edwin scoffed, adjusting his glasses before he concluded, “Just remember to fasten all three hooks in the back. It completes a current which blocks out detection on metal and sonic detectors. It can be charged within the suitcase when not being, erm, worn.” Sophie nodded, “As always, you’ve thought of everything.” She removed her coat, “Let’s get it fitted.”

Sophie stood in the bra as the tailor walked around her, marking on the dark fabric with a wax marker as she remained still. He pulled his measuring tape from around his neck, drawing around her bust and then taking several smaller measurements. “Mm-hmm,” the tailor hummed, “Very good Miss.” He stepped to Edwin, sharing his small notepad and confirming the information on Edwin’s clipboard. “Edwin,” Sophie began, “would it be possible to put a tracker in something edible? Something in a large amount, so I could track several people?” Edwin turned the question over, elated at the idea. “Let me work work on it,” he offered. “What’s it for?”  
Sophie lifted her arm as the tailor made his final observations. “Children.” she answered.  
Edwin blinked, noting the seriousness in her reply and not asking further. 

 

Reverend Hislop walked through the chapel, on his evening rounds to restock the offering candles, when he noticed Sophie sitting alone in the last pew. He cocked his head, staring at her in the dimly lit chapel, but she stared ahead at nothing. The vicar nodded to himself, stepping down from the pulpit and walking through the aisle to sit beside Sophie. “It’s been a long time.” Hislop whispered. Sophie nodded, looking down to the floor and saying nothing. Hislop looked at Sophie’s hands as she clutched her single white glove in silence.  
“Do you need to talk about it?” He said softly.  
“What do you do when you have hate in your heart?” Sophie asked, her voice barely above a whisper, “How do you cope with it?”

“This isn’t about the Americans beating us, is it?” Hislop joked. Sophie looked over at him and he was immediately serious. “I’m sorry,” he corrected, “what do you mean when you talk of hate? What could evoke such a strong feeling in you?”  
“This...man, a contact at work,” Sophie struggled, trying to explain, “he’s just a terrible person, and I’m working on trying to help but I’m just so angry.” Sophie looked back down at her hands, “I don’t know how to deal with my anger.”  
Hislop studied her response curiously. “Well, I would advise that you pray on it, and if you know this person to be acting amorally then you alert the proper authorities. That’s what any of us would do. That’s where to begin, and once you’ve done that, you can resolve the feelings you have.” Sophie nodded as she listened to his instruction, kneading her glove.

“Has this...tailor been inappropriate with you?” Hislop asked. Sophie sniffed, a sort of amused sigh escaping her as she shook her head, “Nothing like that,” she confirmed, “Everyone is a perfect gentleman at the shop.”  
“You’re never going to tell me what you really do,” Hislop replied, “are you Sophie?”  
Sophie looked over at him, her eyes moistened with tears, “I can’t Vicar. I wish I could.”  
Hislop nodded, “It isn’t illegal, is it?” he asked cautiously.  
Sophie giggled sickly, “No!” she replied, relieved at the silliness, “I became one of the good guys. I promise you that.”  
“I see,” Hislop replied, “and this contact is one of the bad guys?”  
“Of the worst order.” Sophie replied.  
“I believe I misspoke earlier,” Hislop said simply, “Crush him.”  
Sophie looked at her vicar as he decided, “Try to be home by Christmas, the kids missed you last year.”  
Sophie nodded, “Ok.”

Sophie reached into her pocket, tucking a candle into Hislop’s hands as she stood to depart the church. Hislop looked at the candle, which had a note attached to it which read: please light this and say a word for Nakry. “I will!” Hislop called out to her. Sophie reached the door, opening it to the warm evening air. “Thank you.” She replied, releasing the door without looking back.

 

Sophie returned to Albert Theophilus’ office with her briefcase in her hand. “Good morning Albert!” She cheerily called as she entered his office. Albert looked up from his morning tea as Sophie leaned against the corner of his desk. “I’m ready to really invest in your vision,” Sophie said seriously, “You’re right - it’s the opportunity of a lifetime. Your other investors might be happy taking their little indulgence trips and drinking your booze.” Sophie laid her briefcase onto Albert’s desk, opening it to display bundles of £50 notes. Albert sat up, looking at the briefcase, “You and me,” Sophie said, “let’s get serious about this. Let’s turn this into a billion pounds.”  
Albert lifted a stack of the bills, looking up at Sophie puzzled, “You are quite impulsive, Honoria. Why the sudden zeal?”

Sophie loosened her tie, removing it and unbuttoning the top two buttons from her skirt. “It started with Anna, the girl you sent to my room.” She explained, dropping the tie onto her cash and pacing around the desk, “Truth be told, you lit me up a little with that. I was...angry. Not because of the child,” she dismissed with a wave, “I don’t care about that. It was banality of the offering. Are we gangsters?” Sophie rested her palms on his desk, “No! Albert, we are not criminals. We’re business associates. We understand that the only acceptable answer to the question, ‘how much do you want?’ is MORE.” Sophie leaned in as she said, “I didn’t start this for ‘cocaine on a yacht’ money, I want ‘married to a title’ money. I want the power to do anything.”

“Married?” Albert questioned, “I thought your appetites were different?” Sophie ran her fingertip along her collarbone and giggled. “When I am hungry,” she replied, “I will eat.” She paced back around the desk, leaning slightly against his knee. “It feels good to have something bad for you every now and again,” Sophie flirted, “Do you ever get hungry, Albert?”  
“It’s getting harder to tell if a girl is using you,” Theophilus commented, “You young women are so ambitious.” Sophie laughed, gently gripping and tugging his tie up and away from his abdomen. “A little advice, from this ambitious young woman:” Sophie replied, “Use us back.”  
With that, she pulled the tie and kissed Theophilus passionately. “When can we go back out?” Sophie asked breathlessly as they parted, “I want to see all of the sites. I’ll pack for it this time, and take some photos for the charity front. We could arrange some powerful charity events from that.”

“I can’t.” Theophilus explained, “I have legitimate business holdings here.”  
“I’ll go alone,” Sophie suggested, “I can invest that million in fuel and expenses, and go out to catch up. I should learn as much as I can, so put me in the camps and I’ll make a presence there.” Theophilus considered this, nodding as he decided. “It is a good idea, if you can take it.”  
“A bit of rough?” Sophie said, “It’ll be fun. I’m tougher than I look.”  
“Chester said you were ambitious, I had no idea.” Theophilus said, pressing against her body.  
Sophie simply laughed, “That old man has no idea.” she said seductively, “Make the plans.” Theophilus nodded and Sophie turned to replace her tie. “I have to go,” Sophie sulked, “as much fun as I’m having, I’m meeting that old man for an early lunch at The Arts Club and I cannot be late.” Sophie straightened her tie, admiring her reflection as she glanced in his tall antique mirror.

“The Arts Club, I had no idea Chester was a member. I must ask for his good word.” Sophie smiled, tracing a finger over her lip to smooth her lipstick. “He doesn’t,” she said flatly, “but I will consider putting my vote in for you in January if you like.” With that, Sophie winked at him and made her way to his door. “Phone me the arrangements, and please return my briefcase - I love that case.” She said, gripping the door and letting herself out.

 

Back at HQ, Sophie was brushing her teeth feverishly, spitting pink streaked tooth polish into the basin with each pass. She took a long sip of water, rinsing before she washed the basin down and tossed the toothbrush into the bin. “Everything coming along?” Merlin asked. Sophie nodded, wiping her mouth before she collected her pads and went into the gym to train. As she picked up her rapier, several younger men in the gym crossed the room. “No one?” Sophie asked, bemused. One young man stepped up, only to have his sword swept cleanly from his hands within minutes of beginning. “It’s not very enjoyable training with someone so advanced.” he complained. Sophie sipped her tea, stopping to respond, “I’m sorry, were we having fun?” she chided, “Because you were fencing on your toes. That’s bad form,” she added, shaking her head, “not fun.”

“Poor control of your blade, clumsy point work, sloppy footwork…” Sophie clicked her tongue as she shook her head, “These things might embarrass you here but they will get you killed out there. So,” Sophie said calmly, “who is next?” From the stairs behind them a voice called down, “I’ll go next.” Sophie turned, smiling as Percival descended the stairs while removing his coat. Tucking his tie into his shirt, he collected a rapier from the board and went to face Sophie. “Percival,” Sophie greeted with a slight bow. “Guinevere” Percival replied in like fashion. They raised their swords, Percival making a single thrust which Sophie quickly parried before making a defensive recovery. Sophie took two careful steps back, and when Percival made his second attempt, Sophie returned with progressive action, connecting lightly with Percival’s shoulder. “Quarte.” Sophie called, separating as she confirmed he was uninjured. 

“Merely startled,” Percival aptly dismissed, settling in recovery. Sophie held her blade, as Percival stood on guard, pacing around the mat. Sophie advanced, engaging his blade and charging him and pressing her body to his. Percival bucked, throwing his hilt upward and knocking Sophie back as they disengaged. She stumbled as Percival fluffed her hair with his blade playfully. “Point.” He mocked as he continued to direct. Sophie smiled mischievously at him, falling back and drawing him in as he lunged and attempted to connect to her left thigh. Sophie anticipated this, kicking upward as she dodged and threw her leg over Percival’s hand. She squeezed it there, meeting Percival’s neck with her blade. “What have we learned from this match?” Sophie asked the observing group as she held Percival in place with a smile, “Anyone?”

“We learned that in the field, proper technique won’t protect you.” One of the students offered, “That you have to use any means necessary.” Sophie lowered her blade from Percival’s neck, squeezing her thighs again playfully. Percival blushed, clearing his throat as Sophie lifted her leg as released his hand. She turned back to the students, addressing them as a group, “When you are out there, these techniques may help you, but you should never forget that your opponent is aiming to kill you. That’s it. If it comes to hand-to-hand combat, do whatever is necessary to prevail and stay alive.” Sophie turned, shaking Percival’s hand, “Thank you, Percival,” she commented, “Dismissed.”

 

DOSSIER - GUINEVERE  
CASE #KT83117-061593

Second leg of mission to center around breaching Project Prospero on the ground at each location - will be seeking students to give statements and reporting locations back to HQ. 

Expect word for possible extraction following final retcon at coordinates:

12.5657° N, 104.9910° E  
15°10′51″N 145°45′21″E  
04°49′S 53°40′E / 4.817°S

End of line.

 

Harry stared at the sanitized communication on his tablet. He had missed her flight by mere hours returning from his mission, and returned home in a quiet sadness. He never acknowledged his worry over her being in the field - it would be, to him, the height of disrespect to afford her any less than complete confidence in her abilities as a Kingsman. However, he was always seized with pangs of deep worry when he failed to see her before she left, especially after she confided her first near miss to him. Harry reached his flat, stepping into the darkness and moving seamlessly through to his kitchen and turning his kettle on for a cup of tea. Sophie also sipped tea, thumbing aimlessly through Vogue as her plane made its way back to the campsite in Cambodia. She was wearing cargo shorts, proper boots, and a lightweight blouse which obscured Edwin’s tactical brassiere as she flipped through the glossy pages to pass the time. The flight attendant leaned down, presenting her with a telephone and offering her a glass of champagne.

“Yes?” Sophie asked, taking the call.  
“Honoria? It’s Albert. Just letting you know that I’ve taken care of all your transport once you arrive. Are you sure you’re up for roughing it?”  
“Yes Albert, I am prepared.” Sophie assured him, “I dressed for the occasion this time.”  
“Are you going to tell me, or should I leave that to my imagination?” Theophilus chuckled.  
“If you wanted to see what I was wearing, you should have come away with me.” Sophie replied, sipping her champagne, “But I assure you, if this trip is a success I will be coming to see you straight away.” Sophie closed her magazine as she listened to Theophilus’ deep chuckle.  
“If you decide the camping is not for you, go to the club,” he instructed, “Tell them to put you in my suite.”  
“Thank you Albert.” Sophie responded, “Once I’m at the camp, I will forward you any of my notes for our next movements. I look forward to taking our business to the next level.”

With that, Sophie ended the call, returning the phone to the attendant. She finished her champagne, turning her plans over as she considered the conversation with Theophilus. “Excuse me,” she called to the attendant, “could I possibly have something a bit stronger than this? A martini would be lovely.” The attendant nodded happily, taking the glass from her and returning to the kitchen. Sophie reached into the pocket of her cargo pants, retrieving her single glove. She rubbed the fingers of the glove between her fingers, letting her mind wander back to her last night with Harry. She held to the single glove, closing her eyes as she tried to remember every little detail of his face. Harry had the incredible ability to make Sophie feel worthy by never failing to treat her as a most precious lady. When he held her, she felt protected and safe. When he spoke to her, she felt respected. Sophie held the glove to her cheek, remembering her hands caressing him as he kissed her. This memory was like an oasis in her dark and trying mission.

“Miss Clarke?” The attendant called, shaking Sophie from her thought. She placed a small napkin onto the table before she set the martini down. “Thank you,” Sophie replied. The attendant nodded, “My pleasure.” she replied, walking away. Sophie folded the glove but continued to hold it. She wondered where she lost the second one as she thought of Harry in his prim little flat, perfection as always. _He must’ve been preparing for bed at this hour_ , she reasoned as she tried to imagine him undressing and placing each item just so.  
In his flat, Harry was brushing his coat, placing it onto his valet when he noticed something at the corner of his bed. Dropping to one knee, he reached under and grasped the single glove that had been pushed under the bed. He lifted to his feet, holding the little glove in his large hand and brought it to his nose to take in her perfume. As he detected the notes of Chanel, he closed his eyes for a few moments before placing it gently into his bureau. There Harry brushed his fingers over it a final time before closing it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie gets to work in the field, and brings some purchases home.

The jeep barreled along the dirt road, beating back the overgrowth on either side of the vehicle as it made its way to the Prospero campsite. Sophie held to the frame, her hair whipping in the wind as they made the journey. The jeep took a sharp right, turning onto a small access road when the foliage cleared and the campsite emerged. Sophie scanned the construction of several cinder block barracks, each with several tents placed in between them. There were large camp latrines at the far end of the camp, along with a hut every few yards along the fenced perimeter for security. The jeep rolled to a stop, and two fresh faced students met Sophie. “Mrs. Clarke?” one of the students began, “I’m Henry. Very nice to meet you.”  
“Honoria, please.” Sophie replied, shaking his hand as she stepped out of the jeep. She extended her hand to the other student, who introduced herself as Angela. “I look forward to getting started.” Sophie continued, “I want to know everything about your operation.”

Sophie walked to the back of the jeep, when two volunteers helped her unload her large trunk while she grabbed the duffle and followed them. “We can set you up with a tent, but you might need to wrap your trunk so it isn’t damaged by the sun,” Angela explained, “it likely won’t fit into the tent I’m afraid.”  
“Actually, if you can direct me to a spot out of the way, I should be all set,” Sophie explained, “Anywhere flat should do nicely.” Harvey walked her over to the other side of their tents to a large, flat patch of earth undeveloped in any way. Sophie opened her bag, pulling a large oval of folded polyurethane and tossing it out onto the patch. It popped apart as it landed, spreading out across the ground in a perfect circle. Sophie smiled, turning to Angela. “Could you lend me a hand?” She asked, walking over to the structure. Sophie bent over, reaching under it and directed Angela to the opposite side. “Do you feel that hard metal part? Lift that please.” Both women lifted the tent until metal legs sprang out and locked into place, lifting the structure off the ground. 

“Thanks ever so much.” Sophie said as she stood. She produced a remote, pressing it as the tent began hissing loudly, filling with compressed air and inflating into shape. The tent filled out, forming two compartments and leaving a covered space to place the trunk into. The top of the tent flopped open, displaying four large solar panels as she unzipped the compartment and placed the trunk into the center of the tent. She connected the solar panels to the trunk and sighed, “All I need now is to set up the air conditioning,” Sophie said, “but that can wait I suppose.” Angela looked at Henry, who stared at the tent. “Air conditioning?” he asked. Sophie patted his arm, dismissing the comment and walking away from the tent as she walked back into the camp. The camp was teeming with children, running around and playing football as Sophie observed the campsite. “Would you like a tour?” Henry offered. Sophie enthusiastically agreed, running over to meet him across the field. “The children here are in two groups,” Henry explains as they strolled through the camp, “The younger children are getting basic education to improve their English and give them a start. The older children are being trained with life skills, to prepare them to enter the job source and be self-reliant.”

They stopped, peering into a large warehouse where there was a row of children working with sergers. Sophie raised an eyebrow, looking to Henry as he explained, “It’s only a few hours a day, and they are making their own clothes. Gives them a sense of pride, learning a skill, and it will be useful later in the job market.” Sophie nodded, trying to take in the scene and as many faces as she could. “That’s very true.” She said, silent in her study of the interior. She lingered for several minutes in serious thought when Henry cleared his throat, attempting to usher her along. He gestured to the barracks next, welcoming Sophie to see the pristine camping setup for each of the children. He stood next to the door, blissfully unaware that his prideful commitment was nothing more than a criminal front. She wondered if he was the volunteer to approach, but would have to be certain. “I’d like to get to know you and Angela,” Sophie announced, “it will help me to form our working relationship. Could you both be available this evening?” The guides both nodded, and Sophie smiled. “Wonderful! I’ll see you then. Now, how can I help with you today?”

Sophie returned to her tent while the children sang around a large campfire. She washed her face, removing the layers of dirt and sweat as she sat in one room of the tent. She peeled away the clothes, using the moist cloths to wash herself and replace her clothes with simple cotton clothing to sleep. The sun was gone, but the humidity was still oppressive, and as Sophie turned on the small air conditioner she moaned in relief at the cool breeze. “Edwin, you saint,” she mumbled as she scanned her fingertips to the underside of the handles together, unlocking and opening the trunk. There Sophie removed and rested her glasses for upload and placed her brassiere for charging. She examined her reflection, giving her face a second wash before she removed her skin cream and tossed it over to the other room of the tent. She typed her brief quickly before closing the trunk and crawling through to the second room. Sophie stretched, unrolling her sleeping bag and setting it to one side of the room. 

Satisfied with her effort, Sophie rolled her neck as she opened her skin cream and liberally applied it to her arms, rubbing it over her elbows and down her forearms. “Hello?” Angela called, “Is this a good time?” Sophie smiled, unzipping the panel door and welcoming them inside. As they sat, they immediately responded to the cooler air in the tent. “That is amazing.” Henry admitted. Sophie smiled, still working her cream into her skin. “Would you like one?” she offered, “I could make arrangements.” Both volunteers looked among each other before declining, “It’s prolly best we not get used to the change. We are only here for two years before continuing to University, and best to commit to the environment with the kids.” Sophie nodded impressed, “That’s noble of you. What University are you attending?”  
“Trinity College in Dublin,” Henry replied.  
“Imperial College” Angela answered, and Sophie beamed, “My very own university! Well done you. Both of you.” Sophie closed her cream, crossing her legs under her as she sat, “So, tell me what brought you here to Cambodia.”

“Well, I can’t speak for Henry, but for me it was the opportunity to do some real good during my gap year,” Angela explained, “A lot of my friends were going on to great adventures, but when I saw the children, and what could be done here I couldn’t imagine backpacking somewhere or having a vacation. The work we are doing will establish this camp for years to come. We could save lives.” Angela smiled, resting her hands in her lap as Sophie considered what she said. Sophie nodded silently - confirming in her mind that these young people really were pawns in this scheme. Henry ended the silence, adding, “That was a lot of it for me as well. This is a beautiful place, and getting to help the people was just too great an opportunity to miss. I feel like I’m going to look back on this for the rest of my life, and that makes me really proud.” Sophie smiled at them both, “As well you should be.” She replied, “Tell me, do you worry at all about the exploitation of these children out in the world?” Both volunteers scoffed, relieved by the ese of the question. “Of course we do,” Angela answered, “that’s why we’re here! This entire organization is making better jobs and safer camps a reality. I mean, I was honestly a little afraid when I arrived months ago, but just look at what we’ve accomplished. Look at the children.” 

“That’s what I’m here to do.” Sophie said happily. She shook both of their hands, “I truly appreciate your showing me about and taking the time to help. The better I understand the needs of these camps, the more effectively I can negotiate aid where it will be most beneficial.” She looked at each of them, concluding, “You’re absolutely right - it is about helping as many children as possible.” Sophie stifled a meek yawn, apologizing as she did. Both volunteers dismissed the apology, turning to leave the tent and wishing her a good night. Sophie replaced her cream, jotted a few additional notes into her dossier, and retired for the night.  
Camp site security minimal, extraction should prove simple, three man group. Additional camps and schematic information to follow, expected deployment within three months, pursuant to completion of camp tours. Believed possible inside man selected at base camp.  
Arthur, Merlin, and Galahad studied these words independently, preparing for her instruction.

Sophie woke to the sound of giggling outside her tent. Instinctively, she bolted upright to study the sound. Hopping through to the second room of the tent, she unzipped the tent to investigate only to discover no one around the tent. She looked down, frowning as she discovered her boots filled with rocks. As she pondered this, Henry approached with coffee and offered it to her. “The children did it,” he explained, “you have to be careful out here with the variety of snakes. The children don’t want to see you get hurt.” Sophie sipped her coffee gratefully as she blinked herself awake. Around the corner from the barracks, two small faces peered around at Sophie and giggled as she examined her boots. Spying them, Sophie handed her coffee back to Henry and gave chase, sending the laughing children running away into the common. Sophie followed playfully, “Who put those rocks in my boots? Was it….you?” She called jovially as the children scattered. She stopped, and the children came back and as she opened her arms, they hugged her. Sophie patted each of their heads, looking down at their bare feet together in the red dust. “Thank you for saving me from the snakes,” she commented, “I’ll do my best to keep them away.”

Sophie parted from them, hiding her emotions as she walked briskly back to her tent. As she emptied her boots, she spoke plainly to Henry. “Make a list,” she instructed, “Biscuits, toys, anything the children would benefit from. I’ll have it here inside the week.” Sophie carried a basin to the well, pumping a bit of water into it and returned to her tent to wash her feet and replace her boots. “I’m going to arrange my team to continue tomorrow. These past weeks have been a great education for me, but you have everything well in hand, and I can conclude any business when I return at the end of the tour if that is acceptable.” She finished tying the laces, and rose to meet his gaze. Henry swallowed, surprised at her resolve, “Yes, that would be incredible. I’ll have the list for you this evening. Anything you can supply would be a tremendous help.” Sophie dumped her basin and pinned her hair out her face, looking out across the camp. “Don’t spare anything,” she replied, “if it will help, put it on the list and my team will work on it.” Sophie ducked, poking her torso into the tent and retrieving her glasses and phone. “Also, I’m going to send some sweets. I want them to be given to each child as they move on to placement - not before.” Sophie explained, “A little graduation treat as such. They have worked so hard. It would be lovely to give them a proper sendoff.”

Henry nodded, “I’ll give you a roster as well as the list.” Sophie nodded, pleased at the exchange. She turned her focus to the phone, allowing Henry to get back to his daily routine. Dialing Theophilus, she shook herself out, getting into character as the satellite connected her call. “Honoria? How goes the trip?” Theophilus answered, his voice alert for the hour. Sophie paced as she spoke, “Good morning Albert. Or should I say good evening? Wasn’t expecting you to answer the phone at this hour.” Theophilus laughed at this, amused to surprise her with his acumen. “The Nikkei just opened,” he explained, “business waits for no man or woman.”  
“I see that.” Sophie replied silkily, “Just calling to report that base camp seems a very tight ship. I’m having my corporation ship some light camp necessities to the children. A little goodwill before I move onto Saipan, but I am liking what I see. The investment is looking ever more certain.”  
“Saipan will be different,” Theophilus warned, “The Asians like to run their own camps, so we don’t have volunteers there. You’ll be there alone - I hope you’re ready for that.” 

“Will I still be in a tent?” Sophie asked sarcastically. This made Theophilus laugh, “Now that you won’t have to deal with. In fact, I’m going to send along a little bit of home for when you arrive.” Sophie raised an eyebrow, curious at the comment but saying nothing. “Keep making money Albert.” Sophie said, amused, “I’ll see you at the Savoy soon - I’m dying for a proper soak.”  
“Always,” Theophilus replied, “I’m arranging for you to have a spa day when you arrive, so enjoy your flight. I’ll see you in London in a few weeks.”  
Sophie closed the phone, licking her lips as she considered the next call. Dialing the number, Sophie studied her surroundings as two rings sounded. “Customer Service?” Answered the crisp British voice on the line.  
“Kipper calling,” Sophie said, “skiffle for Edwin.”  
“Yes Miss,” the voice replied.  
“Kipper is whipping the cat, onward to post, skiffle to base at measure. Candy.” Sophie stated, “Edwin provided a capital mangle.”  
“I understand,” the voice replied, “thank you for your call.” 

The following morning, Sophie rose, dressed and left her tent. Walking to the center of the tent, Sophie pulled a pin from the top, collapsing the tent down into the base in a single motion. She then lifted the sides, folding the tent into a case which locked atop her trusty trunk. Sophie dusted her hands, satisfied with her completed packing job. Henry and Angela stood watching, amazing at the collection as the jeep arrived and two men approached to collect her baggage. Sophie instructed then before turning back and walking to meet the volunteers. “Is there a place we can discuss those lists you’ve prepared for me?” Sophie asked. Angela nodded, directing them to one of the empty classrooms. They offered a table and Sophie opened her binder as Henry handed over the lists Sophie requested. “Thank you very much,” Sophie said as she slipped the lists into her binder, “and I am terribly sorry about this.” Sophie checked her watch, firing a dart at Angela and rendering her unconscious. As she collapsed against the table, Henry gasped. “Ms. Clarke!” he exclaimed, staring at Angela as Sophie lowered her arm. 

“She’s fine, I assure you, but we haven’t a lot of time.” Sophie expressed, “my name is not Honoria Clarke, and this is not a refugee camp.” Henry returned his focus to Sophie’s face as she continued, “And I really am very sorry, but I need your help. Can I count on you, or should I prepare another dart?” Henry shook his head, looking back at Angela as she lay on the tabletop.  
“What do you mean, this isn’t a camp?” Henry asked. Sophie accessed her digital files, showing Henry the children within the club, and the transports she’s discovered.” Henry shook his head in confused disbelief. “You’ve been lied to,” Sophie explained, “but I am here to stop all of this. Can I trust you to help me protect these children?” Henry looked down at the images on her tablet and nodded, “Definitely,” he responded, “Yes.”  
Sophie nodded in relief. “The candy is the most important part. The candy I’m sending you has a tracker in it. As the children are sent to these...places, we can track them for rescue. It is imperative that they are given the candy as they leave. Do you understand?” Henry nodded as he listened. 

“Very good,” Sophie continued, “Do not waste it - I need the signals to locate the distribution hubs. We might never find them otherwise.” She rested a reassuring hand on Henry’s wrist as he looked back up at her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. This organization manipulated your good nature to use you and I will make sure they pay for that. But what’s most important are the children. Once I’ve been to each camp, I will return to collect you.” Sophie said seriously, “That’s a promise.” Sophie looked into Henry’s confused and hurt expression with kind eyes, “Henry, you mustn’t tell anyone what I’ve told you today. It could cost you your life. Tell me you understand.” Henry looked at Angela, his eyes searching as he processed all the information.  
“I understand.” He replied quietly, “I won’t tell a soul.”  
“Thank you Henry.” Sophie replied kindly.  
“You said ‘we’,” Henry asked, “that we can track them?”  
“Yes, my organization,” Sophie said simply, “Classified I’m afraid. Like my name, it is safer for you to not know.”

Sophie closed her binder, cracking a small vial as she stood and walked around the table. Taking Angela’s cheek in her hand, she waved the vial under her nose until Angela began to stir. “My goodness, my dear are you alright?” Sophie asked as Angela opened her eyes.  
“I...I don’t know. What happened?” Angela asked.  
“You just fainted.” Henry interjected. Sophie shot him a brief but grateful glance as she helped Angela to her feet. As she paced Angela in a small circle, holding her up at her shoulders she replied, “You must be dehydrated in all this heat. Take some time and rest, drink a bit of water and you’ll be right as rain. I’m sure of it.” Sophie released her once she seemed on sure footing and let her find her balance. Angela rubbed her temple, wandering away from them and to the door. “You better get going,” Henry offered, “You don’t want to miss your plane.”  
“Thank you Henry.” Sophie said, shaking his hand.  
“I won’t forget the candy, Ms. Clarke.” He replied solemnly.

 

Sophie boarded the plane, exhausted. As soon as it took off, she retired to the private cabin to take a long shower and wash the grime and sweat of the camp away. As the hot water gushed over her, Sophie hoped Henry had been the right decision. She then left the shower and slipped into her crisp tailored shirt before reclining on the bed and drifting into an uneasy sleep. There she remained until a light knock stirred her. “Ms. Clarke? We are preparing our final approach.” The attendant informed, “Also, your tailor delivered an additional bag before your arrival. Was there anything to remain for collection?” Sophie sat up, stretching as she considered the question. “Yes, I have a small bag for returns. Did the tailor say where I am to leave the returns?” Sophie stood, collecting her shoes before opening the door to address the attendant. “It’s all arranged,” the attendant replied pleasantly, “Just leave it with me. Would you like a cup of tea?” Sophie passed into the main cabin, sitting to slip into her shoes and stifling a small yawn. “Please. Lady Grey if you don’t mind.” She rubbed her eyes and replaced her glasses as her tea arrived and the plane began descent.

The camp in Saipan was quite different from Cambodia, and Sophie was immediately certain that this operation had been in effect longer. Large bamboo and grass huts formed the mains camp, with smaller guest accommodation along the outskirts. “Here are your rooms,” the liaison explained, showing one such hut to Sophie, “You see we take very good care of respective buyers. Everything top quality.” Sophie surveyed the rooms as her trunk was carried into the bedroom. “There is running water and power in the guest accommodation, and security. You will be very safe here.” He assured her. Sophie nodded as she set her bags down. “I look forward to a thorough tour of the grounds in the morning, but all I desire now is a meal and a bit of quiet.”  
“Yes of course,” he replied, “you also have spa tonight. Mr. Theophilus was very clear about it.”  
Sophie looked at him, mildly puzzled as he spoke. “Is the spa here?” She asked him, confused. The liaison smiled, “We will bring spa to you, Ms. Clarke.” He gave a slight bow before disappearing from the doorway and leaving her alone in the small hut. 

Sophie opened her trunk, tripping the damper to scan for any listening devices as she opened the package from the tailor shop and retrieved her new bundle of fresh clothes. Walking them to the chest of drawers, she placed the items into the top two drawers and then walked to the bar to pour a glass of whiskey. She had been in the field a month, but had been traveling constantly, so she didn’t feel as connected as she had previously. She hoped the business of this mission would be over soon, and she wondered about how Henry was holding up when she saw three children appear at the door. Each had a small caddy of tools and wore a coat and shoes, all in a vivid white. “May we?” The child in the center asked, waiting to be invited into the room. Sophie finished her whiskey, walking over to open the door wider and inviting them inside. She slid the door closed behind them, closing her trunk and noting the absence of recording devices. Sophie removed her glasses and set them on the bar to get a clear shot of the room and the girls. They offered a reclining chair to Sophie, and as she sat down the girls sprang to life around her. In quiet chatter and soft giggles, they removed her shoes and placed the hands into paraffin bags. The oldest of the girls tilted her head back, rubbing her temples as she began Sophie’s facial. 

Sophie sat there, thinking about when this training must have begun for these girls. She imagined the institutions they would be sent to with a sinking feeling as the girls worked in a fruitless effort to ease her tension. Their innocent giggles seemed to calm Sophie - they were, under all this awful business, children. “What’s so funny?” Sophie asked, her tone kind. Her effort backfired though, as the girls all looked down and fell silent. “No, it’s okay,” Sophie tried, “you can chat, I don’t mind.” She lifted her head, but the air in the room had changed, and as if speaking broke some sort of spell - she had ended the engagement of these children. Sophie returned her head, saying nothing the rest of the time the children were there. After they left, she pulled her tablet, filing a report of her location and further data necessary to the case before locking everything essential and going to bed. As she drifted, she wondered if she would ever again look at a child and not wonder about what possible darkness exists in their life. She thought of the children in the care of Reverend Hislop, and about herself so many years ago. 

She woke the next morning, stepping out onto the tiny portico to discover green tea resting on a warmer and a selection of fruits set out for her under a light netting to protect it from pests. Sophie helped herself to the tea as she watched the children moving from one area to another in single file. This camp seemed almost entirely dedicated to domestic servants - Sophie was looking at slaves walking calmly by as she tried to drink tea. She tried to record as many faces as possible when the liaison from the previous evening walked up the steps to her. “Good morning,” he greeted, “are you well rested after last night?” Sophie finished her tea and replaced her cup before answering. “Yes,” Sophie replied, “the girls you sent were most helpful. Are they still in training?” Sophie looked up at him, flashing a calm, even smile. He looked relieved, and checked his notes. “They will be ready for the market very soon. They are quite skilled.”  
He answered, pleased with the results. Sophie chewed her fruit as she surveyed the camp.  
“How much?” She asked, “How much will they cost once on the market?”  
“The product would be ￡5.000 each,” he explained, “Once placed into the catalog, interested parties can arrange to see them.”

Sophie felt ill at the meager sum placed on the lives of the children. “Do not place them.” She ordered, “I’ll have all three. I assume documents and passports can be arranged?” She looked at him sternly, blinking as he nodded. “We can make every arrangement, Miss.”  
Sophie looked back to the beautiful scenery and said succinctly, “Good.”  
She stood, abandoning the remaining meal as she returned to her room, “I’ll be but a moment and then we can begin the tour. I have some ideas for operations that I’d like to run by you as well.” She informed him, grabbing her parasol and meeting him at the door to begin walking the grounds. She talked along, scanning the grounds as her liaison described the work schedule, training and education for each child. This camp was a great deal more regimented than the previous one, and Sophie saw far fewer children playing on the grounds. “We produce well-trained chattel for domestic service, spa work, and personal companionship. Our product has an 93% placement rate with minimal offset for second markets.” 

Sophie listened to the liaison, stopping him at ‘offset’ with a raise of her hand, “What do you mean, ‘offset’ is low? What are we doing with them?” She looked back to him, and he studied his notes before responding, “They are rendered, Ms. Clarke. For transplant.” Sophie went wide-eyed at the response, shaking her head, determined. “No. Not from today forward. 7% Offset is too high, you are not to render any more product until I review the numbers - do you understand?” Sophie ordered, “That’s an unacceptable rate of loss, David. Those numbers have to improve. Not another one will be rendered until I send approval.” David nodded and Sophie turned back to the dormitories. “I have three weeks, not let’s get to work.”

 

Theophilus knocked on the door, and a small Asian girl opened the door for him. “Well, hello.” Theophilus greeted surprised. “Albert?” Sophie called, “I’m in here.” Theophilus walked through the Savoy suite, passing the children who sat in the sitting room coloring quietly as he turned right and stopped at the bathroom door. “Honestly Albert,” Sophie chided from the bathtub, “come in and stop mucking about!” Theophilus stepped into the room where Sophie sat in the tub sipping champagne, her body covered in thick bubbles. “Would you like one?” Sophie offered, shaking her glass as he shook his head. “Azalea!” Sophie called. The eldest girl entered the room, and refilled her champagne without speaking. “Thank you Azalea,” Sophie called, “Mr. Theophilus needs a chair.”  
As the child left the room to retrieve one, Sophie leaned against the wall of the tub, speaking quietly to Theophilus, “That was the best investment I’ve ever made. Just look at my nails.” She fanned her nails for him to admire momentarily. 

“I read your proposals for increasing yield,” Theophilus said, taking the seat Azalea delivered and sitting down, “They look really impressive.” Sophie nodded, “And once I put all the smaller suppliers in direct competition for our business, we can turn that to profit as well. This is really working out.” Sophie reclined in the tub and sighed, allowing Theophilus to continue. “These past three months have been fantastic for relations, and I got great feedback from Saipan, and even the camps in Africa are onboard with many of your suggestions. The candy has become one of the most popular features of the placement ceremonies with the product.” He said, “Hell, even suspending the rendering program has only caused demand to skyrocket.”  
Sophie nodded, “We continue postponing it until the new year, and the market with make a run. So many sad parents around the holidays.” She sipped her champagne, turning the tap with her freshly painted toes to warm the water.  
“I was hoping you’d join me tonight,” Theophilus commented, “I am going to an event for international children’s charities. It would be good for business - and we could get to know each other better.”

Sophie opened an eye and looked over at Theophilus. “I dunno Albert, I booked a massage and the girls were going to wrap my hair tonight.” Theophilus stood, walking over to glance into the tub. “Come along, Honoria,” he chided, “there’s too much excitement in the city tonight to waste it with the help. There’s plenty of that ‘more’ to seek.”  
“True.” Sophie conceited, shrugging as she tossed back the rest of her glass and pulled the plug from her bath. “Iris!” She called, and another young child arrived. The child grabbed a towel from the warmer and handed it to Sophie, who modestly wrapped herself as she stood and stepped from the bath. “Thank you Iris.” She grabbed the robe, wrapping it around herself before letting the towel beneath fall away. “Alright Albert, off with you then,” Sophie agreed, “if I’m going out with you tonight, I need to get ready and put a face on so you have to go.” She showed him through to the door, “I’ll meet you in the bar at 8:30.” She instructed, seeing him through it.  
“Wear a dress.” Theophilus requested with a laugh. Sophie closed the door on him.

Turning to the children, Sophie smiled and clasped her hands. “I’m sorry I had to behave that way,” she explained as she asked, “Come now, who is hungry?” When the girls all nodded, Sophie pulled out the menu and studied it. “Hmmm,” she said jovially, “I have an idea. Why don’t you girls go watch TV on the bed while I call and take care of this. Ok?” Sophie switched on the television in the bedroom, and the girls sat together in front of it. Sophie then called room service, “Yes, Honoria Clarke calling in my suite? Could you send up one of every item on the children’s menu, and a scoop of each flavor of ice cream you have. That’s right. Three place settings. Oh - and a press of coffee please for two. Thank you.” Sophie replaced the receiver and left the girls in the bedroom to sit in the parlor. Tapping her glasses, she said flatly, “Call Galahad.” There was a brief silence before she heard the surprised tone of Harry Hart. “Yes Guinevere?” He answered hopefully. Sophie smiled - she had missed the gentle reassurance of his voice. “I need your help. Can you possibly meet me at my suite at the Savoy?” She asked.  
“Of course,” Harry replied calmly, “Do you need anything? Are you alright?”  
“No. Yes.” Sophie replied with a dry laugh, “I’m in the riverview deluxe suite. Honoria Clarke. Thank you Galahad.” Sophie ended the communication and returned to the bathroom to prepare for the evening.

 

Harry arrived, and Sophie opened the door to greet him. She was still in the robe, but her hair and makeup was completed. His eyes shined as he looked at her and she smiled. It had been four months since they’d seen one another. “Galahad,” Sophie greeted, “thank you for coming, please come in.” Sophie closed the door, her body language professional as she gestured for him to follow as she passed the parlor and stopped within sight of the bedroom. Harry glanced into the room, examining the three young girls eating and giggling on the bed. “I bought them,” Sophie confessed quietly. Harry turned to her, confused and Sophie walked back into the bathroom leaving the door open for Harry to join. He slowly looked around the door as Sophie shed her robe. “Please close the door behind you.” She requested. He obliged her as she hooked her bra together, twisting the hooks around to her back. In silence, Harry walked up behind her and straightened the bra so it fit comfortably before resting his hands on her shoulders. “They were about to be sold,” Sophie explained, “£5000 each - for an entire life, and I just thought maybe they could make witnesses, or give evidence. I can’t save them all but I can save these children right in front of me right now...and I…” 

Sophie turned to face Harry with wide eyes, completely nonplussed. She simply shrugged as Harry caressed her cheek. “It’s going to be fine,” he assured her, “I can take them back to HQ and you are right - they can give excellent testimony on their experience.” Harry gave Sophie a brief but tender hug, rubbing her back as he consoled her. “They are safe now, just like the others will be very soon.” Sophie nodded as he parted from the hug, returning to her routine. She sat on the side of the tub, pulling her stockings up to her garters and buttoning them into place. “They arrived with me with papers, dummied up no doubt, so I can give those to you for Merlin.” She explained, “Theophilus knows, but believes them to be my servants.” She stood, stepping into her dress and pulling it up the length of her body. Harry walked over, zipping her into the dress and lingering very close to her. “I’ll take care of the children, don’t give it another thought.” Harry assured her, smelling her hair as he removed the glove from his pocket and showed it to her. Sophie scoffed, turning to face him before leaving the bathroom and walking over to her trunk. She produced the other glove with a big smile and showed it to him.

“Do you know what I do, when it’s hardest out there?” Sophie asked Harry, “I calm my mind and I...imagine this perfect Englishman. He’s dapper and charming and effortlessly elegant, impeccably dressed, and…” Sophie described to Harry, “devastatingly handsome. He always knows the perfect thing to say, and he makes you feel special. Like the only girl in the world.”  
Harry smiled, blinking a few times as a very faint blush found his cheeks. “I imagine that would be a tremendous help.” He offered succinctly. Sophie nodded softly, enjoying the silence that passed in their shared company. “Changelings?” Sophie called to the bedroom. Harry watched as the three girls filed into the parlor and to Sophie, who knelt down to speak to them. “This is my very good friend Harry. He’s going to take you on a drive in a nice cab just now, to a place you girls are going to be able to run around and play. Isn’t that right, Harry?”

Harry cleared his throat, “That’s right. You’re not going to be working anymore.” Azalea hugged Sophie, who opened her arms to all of them as she looked up at Harry. “Okay then,” Sophie said, checking her makeup, “off you go. Collect your things and let’s away then.” The girls when to collect their things and Sophie went to her trunk. She handed all the documentation to Harry and began to add her jewelry to her ensemble. She stepped into her heels as the girls met with Harry, who walked to the door. “I’ll notated any further information as an addendum to your dossier,” he told her, “You’ll know everything as soon as I do. Don’t worry.” Sophie nodded gratefully, walking over to the door to let them out. The girls walked out with their small bags in their hands. Sophie watched them go, a small pang registering on her face. Harry followed the girls through the door. “Be safe tonight,” he whispered. Sophie nodded, “Always.”  
“And Guinevere?” He added as he reached for the doorknob, “You are the only girl in the world.”  
With that, Harry closed the door and Sophie stood alone in the suite, a smile intense on her face.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the piece we needed. Now we can move forward.

“I think you should invite me in.” Theophilus said, his voice slurring as he leaned against the frame of her door. Sophie slipped the key from the door, ducking under his arm to open the door and step inside. “Why should I do that Albert?” She asked, turning at the door to face him. Theophilus leaned down, glancing through the space under his arm in an attempt at charm. “Because we could be a powerful duo, you and I.” Theophilus whispered, “I watched you out there tonight, poised and polished. You charmed everyone, and unlike me you aren’t pissed after a night out.” Theophilus took a step in, touching her shoulder as he whispered, “I know your appetites and I don’t mind them. I can give you the power you desire, and we could be good for one another.” Sophie looked at his hand, then into his eyes as she stepped backward into the room allowing him in. Theophilus swaggered in, closing the door behind him as Sophie turned and walked into the bedroom. Theophilus made his way into the bathroom, and as the water echoed in the chamber Sophie stripped her dress and changed her lingerie.

The door opened and Theophilus walked into the bedroom staring as Sophie reclined against the bed. She didn’t look back at him, instead dipping her fingers into her whiskey before tracing them down her neck to the hem of her green lace teddy. She paused, running her whiskey soaked fingers over her lips slowly as her eyes drifted over to him lustfully. Albert stared at her, loosening his tie as he walked over. “You should have a taste,” Sophie enticed, “it’s delicious.” Theophilus reached her, grabbing her hair as he licked the whiskey from her neck and lightly bit her shoulder. Sophie said nothing, pushing herself back onto the bed as Theophilus fumbled with his belt, and Sophie looked across the room to her single glove as it rested on her dressing trunk. She lay back, concentrating on her perfect, dapper Englishman fantasy as she tried to perform for Theophilus’ drunk delight. Within twenty minutes he was asleep and Sophie was on her way to a very long and nearly scalding shower. With Theophilus snoring loudly, Sophie pulled his Newton messagepad and plugged her tablet into it to copy the files to Kingsman HQ.

She ordered breakfast for the morning and sat in the dark of the parlor listening to his snoring as she passed as much of the evening unnoticed as possible. Theophilus stirred as the breakfast arrived, grabbing a robe from the wardrobe and leaving the bedroom. “Did you sleep?” He asked, walking into the parlor. Sophie ruffled the Times but did not look up from it. “Of course I did.” She replied as he took the seat across from her to ate. She folded the paper, offering it to him before setting it on the table and pouring the tea. “Last night was productive,” she commented, “but I think we should look into some fundraising and publicity to expand on the camps.” Theophilus sipped his tea as Sophie sliced her mushrooms, setting his cup down as he replied, “Actually, I was going to head back to camp today. The next group is being transferred out, and we have new political connections to meet.” Sophie raised her eyebrows, interested as he continued, “You should come with me. You should meet the higher ups, and it would give us a little time to get to know each other. We could go public as an item when we return.” Sophie licked excess lemon curd from her thumb, walking around the table to sit in Theophilus’ lap. 

“Aren’t you moving a bit fast?” Sophie remarked as he brushed the hair from her shoulder. He loosened the tie of her robe, reaching into her robe as she looked down at him and slipping his hand between her thighs. “I think we are both determined, ambitious people, who know what we want.” He replied evenly, “I think that we will both give each other space, and pursue our own interests.” Theophilus leaned up, nibbling Sophie’s ear before he whispered, “And you taste like fresh melon, and I want you. Come with me today.” Sophie pulled back, studying his face with a curious smirk. “Alright. However, I do have to go home and repack first. I’m down to nothing.” Sophie went to stand, but was stopped when Theophilus didn’t release her thigh. “Albert…” she began, annoyed. She looked down as he squeezed, “You don’t have to leave just now, do you?” He asked. Sophie stood again, successfully pulling away at second attempt. “Can’t I’m afraid, I have a facial booked and I must get going. But you stay, and enjoy your breakfast. Have a shower if you like.” 

Sophie walked to the bedroom, shedding her robe and pulling her clothes from the wardrobe. As she tied her necktie, she scanned the underside of the trunk to lock it up. Sophie swept a glance around the room, ensuring everything was locked away before walking from the bedroom through the parlor to the coat closet. “I’m off,” Sophie called, “Where shall I meet you?”  
Theophilus looked up from his breakfast, answering, “The plane leaves at seven. Meet me at the club by five and we’ll leave together.” Sophie slipped into her coat, turning the collar down as she nodded her understanding. “You should wear dresses.” Theophilus remarked, pointing with his knife as she collected her purse, “You look much sexier in a dress.” He returned his focus to the breakfast, and Sophie huffed audibly. “Albert,” she said sternly, stepping into her oxfords, “let it go.” Sophie didn’t wait for a response, throwing the door open and leaving him behind in the room.

 

“Guinevere, welcome back.” Merlin called as Sophie walked into the shoppe. Sophie nodded, happy to be returning, however briefly. “Thank you Merlin. Was there anything useful in the upload?” Merlin looked over his tablet as Sophie shed her coat and made her way to the meeting room. “Actually, yes.” Merlin explained, following her and sending the info to the viewer. Sophie adjusted her glasses as she examined the information. “This is his client list.” Sophie said excitedly, “This is everything.” She looked at Merlin, her enthusiasm evident. Merlin nodded, “With this, we can move forward.” He replied, “Solid work.” Sophie turned back to the table, tapping her glasses and requesting, “Call Edwin.” Sophie paced until Edwin answered, stopping as he took the call. “Edwin? Guinevere. My trunk is in the suite and needs collection. I’m going back out at 5pm, can it be repacked by then? That’s fantastic. Edwin, I’m traveling to Cambodia tomorrow, but all three coordinates will be ready for extraction teams tomorrow. I will update all necessary information into the dossier today, but I wanted to forward the extraction order now. Yes,” Sophie added with a nod to Merlin, “I have informed Merlin. Perfect. Thank you Edwin.” 

Sophie removed her glasses, looking to Merlin to confirm. “With this new information, we can sweep the camps and secure the children. From there, we can forward all the names and evidence to the proper authorities. I will be with Theophilus, and can apprehend him myself.” She explained. Merlin nodded, tapping information into his tablet. “I will form the crews and brief them beforehand.” He replied. Sophie nodded, elated to finally be getting that bastard, when she remembered, “Have you had any word from Galahad?” She asked. Merlin checked his notes, shaking his head as he replied, “Nothing pertaining to this. Is it important?” Sophie shook her head, collecting her things and leaving to head to the armory. “Thank you again Merlin,” she called, stopping at the door. Sophie placed her items in the locker, continuing to the armory for extra ammunition and supplies. She stopped, yawning as she checked the time. “There’s a cot in the strategy room.” Merlin offered, not looking up from his tablet. Sophie sighed gratefully. “I can’t risk going back to my flat right now, so that would be brilliant.” Merlin nodded, “In fact, there should be an office for deep cover work. I’ll look into it.” Sophie nodded, stifled a yawn and went for the cot.

 

Sophie arrived at the club crisp and ready. She had spent months thinking of little else that getting Albert Theophilus, and now he seemed within her grasp. She sipped her gin slowly, not wanting to dull herself in any capacity as she counted down the time on the flight to arrival. Upon their arrival at the camp, Sophie kept her calm, waiting for the crews to come for the group on children, but as the children filed out into the common area something seemed terribly wrong. Sophie looked, but failed to see Angela or Henry. As dread sank into the pit of her stomach, Sophie felt the barrel of the gun tap against the back of her head. Sophie immediately ground her foot against the gunman’s instep, taking control of his wrist and wrenching the gun from it as she elbowed him in the face and turned to face Theophilus. “That’s quite enough, Honoria.” he said, “or whoever you are. Drop the gun.” Sophie looked as Angela and Henry stood alongside him, held at gunpoint. “David was right about you,” he explained, “spotted you the first night, asking about those children. We had you before you even made it home.” 

“And the gala?” Sophie asked, the gun still fixed on Theophilus’ face. He sneered, a mean chuckle escaping him as he spat, “I just wanted to have you before I buried you. Wanted to see if you were as wild as I figured you were. You didn’t disappoint.” Sophie’s heart was pounding and her eyes narrowed, “Come now, Albert - you’ve heard a woman fake it before.”  
Theophilus’ bodyguard fired once in the air, shaking Sophie’s concentration before pulling Henry’s head backward. Sophie swallowed hard, dropping the weapon. “Your conflict is with me, Albert. Let them go and we can settle this.” Sophie raised her hands in an attempt to cease his actions. “Albert, this is foolish - those kids are volunteers of your front. Hurting them hurts your very name. You want me, fine, but leave it at me.” The bodyguard shot Henry in the head, dropping him to the ground and spraying a mist of blood across the petrified Angela.  
“Face it, Clarke,” Theophilus said, “I’m a villain. No hiding that anymore.”  
Sophie’s heart pounded in her chest as the bodyguard pulled Angela over to her, leading them both to the children. 

“Did you hear the most terrible news,” Theophilus announced, “Half my camp was involved in an awful landslide. The children and that good Ms. Clarke must have been swallowed up in the event.” Sophie said nothing, following with the children into the cave and staying with them as the charges were rigged. The guard snatched Sophie’s glasses, stomping them with a sneer. “This isn’t over,” Sophie called, “not by a longshot, Albert.”  
“It sure looks over to me.” he called, blowing the charge, caving the opening in around them. Satisfied, Theophilus turned back to his crew, ordering them to cover up and hide Henry’s body. “He’s just another victim of the tragedy.” Theophilus commented, looking out at the near empty camp, “Ship out the rest of them and prepare the next herd for training. Let’s get to work.” The crew unloaded Sophie’s trunk, throwing it to the cave as they cleared the camp and began moving the children. 

Inside the cave, Sophie checked all of the children before turning to Angela, who stood shaking. Sophie attempted to remove the blood from her face before taking it in her hands, “Listen to me,” she explained softly, “I know you are afraid. That was a terrible thing to experience, but right now we have to protect these children.” Angela’s gaze connected with Sophie as she continued, “I WILL get you out of here, just trust me on this. OK?” Angela swallowed, nodding through her trembling. Sophie nodded with her reassuringly, “I am very sorry about Henry.” She said.  
Sophie began shedding her bra beneath her shirt, shaking it free as she unfastened her cuffs and rolled them to her elbow. She then untucked her shirt, grabbing the bra from inside it and extracting it. Sophie quickly turned it over, liberating the pistol and extra clip from within it and handing it to Angela. “Do you know how to fire a gun?” Sophie asked, and Angela shook her head. “It’s not difficult. If someone comes in, and doesn’t say GUINEVERE, use this. Understand?” Angela swallowed hard, then nodded slowly. 

“Good,” Sophie explained calmly, “Now take the children to the very back of the cave and make sure they cover their ears and heads.” Sophie looked at the children, simulating how to cover your head and nodding to them. “I will come back for you.” As soon as the children left, Sophie stripped the flash grenades from her bra and pulled the lighter from her pocket. She fit it into the top of the rock formation and setting it. Running from the formation, she heard the blast and examined the crater but lingered to listen for any reinforcements. As she heard the men talking, she inserted her plugs and tossed the first flash grenade through the crater. As dust fell into her hair, she climbed up, peering through the hole to find the men on the ground. Quickly pulling herself through the hole, she snatched a dropped rifle, shooting each man before spying her trunk. “Are you serious?” she said aloud, stunned at their stupidity as she dashed over and scanned her fingers along the back. As she heard others approaching, she ducked behind the lid of the trunk, quickly arming herself for as many of the weapons as she add to her ensemble. 

Sophie sent the distress call - KILLING AT BASE CAMP, AGENT COMPROMISED, before punching the side of the trunk, causing an umbrella to pop from a hidden compartment. Sophie smiled as she pulled the umbrella from the compartment. “Is it over then?” She asked to herself. Removing the plugs, she listened for shots or men before opening her umbrella and pacing her way back to the transport as quietly as possible. There Theophilus stood with a henchman on either side. Sophie watched through the umbrella’s screen, closing one eye as she picked the first henchman off. Theophilus turned as he fell, just in time to see the second catch his shot and collapse to the floor. As panic set in, Sophie lowered her umbrella and waved at him. “Does it still look over?” She asked. Theophilus pulled a knife from his walking stick, holding it out in his defense. Sophie grinned triumphantly, “A gentlemanly conflict?” She inquired, twisting her handle and releasing her rapier, “My pleasure, Albert.” She collapsed the runner, forming a shield from the canopy and began approaching him with a determined look in her eye. Theophilus looked terrified as she approached him aggressively until she was surprised by a wounded henchman from the blast, who grabbed her by the hair and held her as she dropped the shield. As she wrestled with him, planting her rapier into the ground and pulling from his grip, Sophie felt a warm spray and he stopped fighting. Releasing her hair, Sophie turned to see him fall as the helicopter approach.

Two men repelled from ropes down to Sophie, flanking her on either side. “Did someone order assistance?” Percival inquired amusingly.  
“I must say, you are ever so good at this.” Sophie remarked, smirking as they all settled gaze on Theophilus, “He’s mine however. There’s a cave filled with children and a terrified volunteer. Shout ‘Guinevere’ so she knows not to shoot you.” Percival and Gareth looked at one another before heading to the cave, and Sophie resumed stalking Theophilus with all humor gone from her. As she approached him, his helicopter emerged from the trees kicking up dust as it lowered to collect him. Theophilus waved at Sophie as he climbed aboard, shouting for the pilot to pull away. “Oh no you don’t.” Sophie growled with fire in her eyes, running after the helicopter. She ran up the truck, grabbing onto the landing skid and holding to it as the helicopter took to the air.  
Sophie began to pull herself up to the open door as Theophilus stomped on her hands. At third attempt, Sophie let go and began falling to the ground. 

Grabbing her pistol, Sophie continued to fire up at Theophilus until she struck the ground. Sophie saw a blinding white flash, the pain from the center of her chest and radiating outward as she struggled to breathe. Her vision went blurry, but she kept her eyes fixed on Theophilus as his helicopter sped away from her. “Guinevere!” she heard someone call, but she couldn’t move. As she slipped from consciousness, she saw Percival’s face loom over her as he tried to speak to her. “I didn’t get him,” she mumbled, her breathing thready, “He...got...away…”

 

Sophie awoke in a hospital bed. “That was some blow you took,” Merlin explained, “collapsed a lung. You could have died.” Sophie looked at him, attempting to sit up but failing to as she winced in pain. “Take it ease there,” Merlin advised, “the next few days are going to be a bit rough, but once you are home you should on your feet.” Sophie winced, still attempting to sit up as he spoke. Defeated, she reclined on the bed and asked Merlin meekly, “He got away, didn’t he?” Merlin studied her frustration, wishing to comfort her but not knowing exactly how. “The camps are closed and the distribution lines are completely traced by the proper authorities.” Sophie looked up at him, her bruised face hardened with her lament. “However,” Merlin continued, “For now, Theophilus escaped.” Sophie took a deep, broken breath, closing her eyes to hide her discomfort. “Thank you Merlin.” She said simply, her eyes remaining closed. Merlin set the clipboard at the end of the bed, tapping the frame, “Rest well, Guinevere. Well done.”  
Sophie didn’t feel as though she had done well, and her rage concerning her perceived failure burned within her. She no longer felt fearful about the field - only anger kept her focus as she rested, every breath sharp and aching.

Within a week, Sophie was out of the bed and walking around. A few days more, and she was filing paperwork and following up any leads she could run down to close her case. Wrapped in the girdle which aided her cracked and swollen ribs, Sophie was putting as many hours as possible into closing any possible leads to Theophilus. However, as she worked those leads seemed to dwindle into nothing. He never returned to London, and as Sophie watched the news of the Prospero scandal unfold on the BBC, the world seemed to share in her consuming disgust of this man. Societies disavowed any knowledge of him at all - seemingly erasing him from the Earth in entirety. Sophie sat on the edge of her bed, towel wrapped around her head as Ian Hislop joked darkly about the shock of the scandal on the BBC, and she felt cheated. Not by the lack of credit, but by the failure of conclusion. Eventually there were no more reports to file. Albert Theophilus had gone underground.

Sophie stood in the range, her right arm tied tightly behind her back. The rope ran across her shoulders, pulling them back and holding her postured as she aimed with her left hand. She focused on the target and fired until the clip emptied. Once empty, she ejected the clip into a basket she had placed at the end of the booth. Then, working with one hand, she reloaded and began firing the second clip. Then eject, reload, and fire a third clip. Sophie continued this over and over again, working with target after target. Arthur watched her working from the observation room, saying nothing as Merlin joined him. “She handles failure poorly,” Arthur huffed, “could be the sign of a weak agent.”  
“Or a great one.” Merlin replied, looking across at him. “She’s devoted, hard working, and sacrificing. Her talent is an asset to us all.”  
Merlin didn’t wait for a reply, turning to leave Arthur and interrupt Sophie as she worked to perfect her assault on multiple target shooters.

“Guinevere.” Merlin called into the lane. Sophie ceased firing, setting her weapon down and removing her ear protection. “Clear.” She replied, turning to face the door. Merlin stepped in, as Sophie twisted in an attempt to untie her other arm. Merlin walked over, pulling the tie and releasing her. Sophie sighed in relief, but before she could thank him he began speaking, “There is something in the observation deck you need to see for your final report.” Merlin advised. Sophie nodded, confused but curious. It had been two weeks, and she had no idea what could have been overlooked in her reporting, but dutifully followed Merlin out of the range and up the corridor to the observation deck. She opened the doors and gasped as she spied them. “My goodness me,” she said in rapture, “but aren’t you all so lovely in your pretty new dresses.” Azalea, Iris, and Lily stood before her in gorgeous tailored dressed and gloves, and Sophie could not stop the tears that formed in her eyes as she knelt and hugged them close to her. She looked up at Merlin, her face transformed in her gratitude as she cleared her throat and said, “Thank you Merlin. Very much.”

 

DOSSIER - GUINEVERE  
CASE #KT83117-061593  
Supplemental - Notated by Galahad

Three informants liberated from forced labor camp by Agent GUINEVERE made statements given into evidence and included in this case file. Informants to be accepted into Ms. Deever’s home for girls following comprehensive course in counseling and rehabilitation, but are markedly improving at an impressive rate. Believed to be transitioning to Deevers before Christmas.

End of line.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Sophie spends Christmas Eve...

Harry stood in his kitchen unpacking the contents of his Christmas Hamper and lining his countertop with little glass jars. Mr. Pickle paced underfoot, curiously sniffing upward as he worked. Harry set a jar of jewel cut marmalade onto the counter when he stopped and sighed. The house was as it always was, and yet the quiet seemed gloomy to him this year. Harry stood pensive for several moments when Mr. Pickle rolled onto his back and exposed a hopeful belly. “Oh, alright.” He commented, leaning down to rub the belly as Mr. Pickle’s tail wagged happily. He sniffed, rolling to his feet and nuzzling Harry’s hand affectionately. “It won’t do.” Harry confided in his companion, “I miss Sophie. You like Sophie don’t you?”   
Harry looked to Mr. Pickle, who snorted. “Of course you do.” Harry replied, “It isn’t Christmas without the people we love to share in it.” Harry stood, considering this. “Let’s go for a walk,” he announced as Mr. Pickle trotted excitedly to the door.

Harry and his companion entered the hall to Sophie’s flat, quietly looking about as he shook out the wreath he was carrying. He checked his reflection in the small mirror beside her door before wrapping sharply on her door. Mr. Pickle sat on the welcome mat, cocked his head to the side and gently pawed at the door but there was no answer. Harry looked down, contemplating what might be keeping her when the silence was broken by a neighbor on the staircase.   
“She’s not there love,” the elderly woman called, “not tonight. She’ll be at the orphanage tonight.” Harry turned, and realizing the lady was carrying groceries quickly set the wreath down to aid her. “Thank you lad.” she replied gratefully, “She’s quite a girl, that one. Always quiet and helpful. Works too much though. Wouldn’t make a sound wife if you fancy her.”

Harry was taken mildly aback at the comment, his stare drifting away from her in annoyance, yet she had said something he caught. Walking ahead of her and setting the bags at her door, he waited as she shuffled past Mr. Pickle. “I don’t, actually.” Harry answered, attempting to keep their relation private, “We work together. I was only here to deliver the wreath she had forgotten.”  
The elderly woman inserted her key, only half interested in Harry’s explanation.  
“You said she’s at the orphanage?” Harry inquired.  
“She has been baking for them for days,” the neighbor gossiped, “the wretched smell of burning and vanilla. The girl would burn a bowl of Alpen, and with no one to teach her...”

Harry’s face hardened. He no longer cared for Sophie’s neighbor. The lady turned back, remembered the question, and answered, “Children’s home, they call them now. You must forgive me my age.” She explained, “It’s not terribly far from here. Joseph of Arimathea, that’s the one I believe. The pendant.” She pointed past Harry, to a small pendant on the frame of Sophie’s door. He walked over, examining the token that had gone unnoticed until then. “Thank you for all your help.” Harry replied, turning to meet her gaze as she closed the door.  
“Happy Christmas!” she called, closing her door.  
“Happy Christmas.” Harry murmured.   
He turned the pendant over, noting the information on the underside, collected his dog and left the wreath at the door as he continued along.

 

“In the morning, James woke to see snow falling.” Sophie read aloud, “He ran into the garden as fast as he could, and he started to make a snowman.” She held the picturebook out for all the children to examine as they all sat together in the floor of the activities center. Puck lay among them, dozing lightly as the children listened to Sophie reading. “He gave him a scarf and a hat, a tangerine for a nose, and lumps of coal for his buttons and his eyes.” Sophie turned the book to the group, showing them the illustration when Mr. Pickle trotted up to her. He had a little sachet of mulled wine spice around his neck and he came right to Sophie, licking her cheek.   
“Well hello there!” Sophie cried happily, “Wherever did you come…” She looked up to the doorway, where Reverend Hislop was chatting with Harry quietly. Harry glanced past him, his gaze connecting with Sophie.

Sophie scratched behind his ears as Mr. Pickle hopped from her knee and went to play with the children. Puck stretched and went to investigate the older dog as the kids surrounded them. Sophie closed the book and stood, bending down to pat both dogs on the head. “Why is he here?” asked one of the children. Sophie sighed, trying to find her answer as Harry walked up.  
“He’s here to visit his good friend Puck.” Harry offered brightly, “It’s always nice to see friends at Christmas.”   
“That’s right,” Sophie agreed, “Mr. Hart and I work together at the tailor. Puck and Mr. Pickle here used to work together too.” Sophie glanced up at Harry as the children burst into laughter over the name. He smiled at her, his gaze lingering long enough to draw the attention of Reverend Hislop across the room.

“Well!” Sophie exclaimed as the children played, “I think in light of the company we should take a break from ‘The Snowman’ and I’ll prepare the trifle. How does that sound?” Sophie clasped her hands as the children all roared in unison, “Yes please.”   
Handing to book over to one of the children, Sophie made her way to the kitchenette to prepare the dessert. She set each item onto the island before turning to the fridge to retrieve the fruit. Harry chuckled to himself, admiring her backside as she pulled the tray from the fridge.   
“It’s nice having Sophie back this year.” Hislop commented, “She had some sort of fabric emergency at a supplier last year or some such thing.”   
“Yes, these things can happen unfortunately.” Harry replied, “It can be a demanding business.”

“Even still…” Hislop remarked, “The children think the world of her. I certainly hope she’s safe on these business trips she takes for so long.” The Vicar looked at Harry, who looked back at him seriously. “Old men worry, but I’ve known Sophie since the accident. I want her to be safe.”  
Hislop watched her setting out the plates, “She thinks she’s alone, but she isn’t alone.”   
“She’s safe.” Harry offered succinctly.  
“Do I have your word on that?” Hislop countered.  
Harry sniffed, allowing the conversation to lull. “I will do my best to keep her safe. You have my word.” He answered.  
“Thank you.” Hislop replied as Harry left him, walking over to meet Sophie as she worked.

 

Sophie was attempting to cut the most burned sections off of a large sponge cake, her knifework impeccable as she grimaced at her failed bit of cake. She bent down, eyeing the burn closely.  
“Can I offer any assistance?” Harry asked.  
Sophie looked up at him, her annoyance at the cake melting into a subtle happiness at his presence. Harry looked, as always, perfect. His vibrant red scarf lay against his black Crombie coat and was just the right right amount of festive for his demeanor. Sophie loved looking at him, and realizing she still was shook her from thought, turning her back to the cake.  
“I’m a dreadful cook.” Sophie admitted, “Though I do try.”  
“You mean it’s not supposed to have the black spots?” A little voice called from below the table. Her small hands gripped the end of the table as Harry chuckled at the observation.

“That’ll be all, Maisey.” Sophie replied, “Off you go then.”   
Maisey stood, shrugged, and returned to play with the dogs. Sophie watched, sighing her defeat.  
“Do you have any plain digestive biscuits?” Harry asked.  
Sophie looked at him, puzzled. “I believe so, in the tin.”  
“Any butter, perhaps?” He continued.  
Sophie turned, checking the fridge as Harry removed his coat and began rolling his sleeves. She returned with the butter as Harry placed a handful of biscuits into a bag. She watched as he reached for the rolling pin, lightly pounding the biscuits flat.  
“Would you mind melting a bit of butter please?” Harry requested, “A half cup should do it.”  
Sophie cut the butter, placing it into the microwave and returning with it for Harry. She began slicing the fruit while he mixed the butter into the crumbs and then pressed a small amount into the bottom of each bowl. He packed each portion flat as they worked side by side happily. 

“There we are.” Harry said, collecting the tray, “Now to chill them.”  
He examined the fridge, noting its size and contemplated his options before placing an additional tray atop the bowl and lifting them together.   
“Excuse me.” Harry said, his charm radiating as he marched the tray out of the room. Sophie watched curiously as he left the room with a queer smile on her face. Reverend Hislop walked over as Sophie returned to slicing the fruit and helped himself to a piece of plum.   
“I like your colleague Harry.” he mentioned, “He seems very nice, coming out on Christmas Eve to visit us.”   
Sophie nodded, dumping the fruit into a bowl to mix it as he spoke. “We are friends.” She laughed, “Honestly, you’re so suspicious.”  
“Suspicious?” He replied, “Not at all. It’s just nice to see such...loving friends at Christmas.”

Sophie laughed dryly, rolling her eyes, “Get out of here.” she chided, “Go finish reading ‘The Snowman’ while I finish this, else no trifle for you.”   
Hislop mocked devastation, quickly leaving the kitchenette and gathering the children as Harry returned empty handed. He met her behind the island as the children sat listening to the story.  
“They shouldn’t take very long to set in that cold.” Harry explained, “Anyplace else I can lend a hand?”   
Sophie looked around, blowing an idle strand of hair out of her face as she evaluated the situation. “All that’s left is whipping the cream, but that’s quite a task,” she explained, “no electric mixer.”  
“My word.” He replied.  
“Indeed.” She confirmed,  
Harry straightened his shoulders, his expression determined as he grasped the whisk and winked subtly at her.

“Whatever happened to discretion?” Sophie asked quietly, looking down at the cutting board. Her tone was light, but the discussion direct as Harry whipped the cream, “Reverend Hislop fancies he knows everything.”   
Harry looked forward, continuing his whisked assault, “Does he?” He inquired.  
Sophie smirked, “No. He’s always been that way: a busybody to the last.”  
“I didn’t mean to create a problem. I was hoping to see you.” Harry explained, “I have been thinking of you often. I realize Christmas might be too obvious a time to spend together.”   
Sophie sighed happily, a slight blush sweeping her cheeks. “You didn’t create a problem.” she said softly, looking at him, “I like you thinking of me. I...hope you are.”  
Sophie grasped two of Harry’s fingers in her right hand behind the island, squeezing them as she pulled away quickly and returned to mixing the fruit.  
They worked side by side, smiling, as the story filled the silence.

Harry retrieved the bowls from outside and Sophie began layering the custard, fruit, jam, and cream into each one. Dusting each with a bit of powdered sugar before handing them to each child, she prepared one for the vicar with extra custard as always before looking up to Harry for his preference. “There’s only one remaining,” Harry explained, “I couldn’t possibly. You have it.”   
“Sophie never has one.” One of the boys explains, handing over his now-empty bowl and looking up between the two adults.  
“That’s right James,” Sophie agreed, “I don’t care for custard, so I sit dessert out.” She leaned forward and whispered to Harry, “...And I have the bottle of champagne in the fridge.” Sophie straightened, raising her eyebrows as she returned to James, “Thank you.”

“Perhaps just some fruit and cream then?” Harry attempted, “I slaved over lowly whisk to make it just for you. I’ll have your lovely bit of sponge.”   
Sophie laughed, “You don’t want the sponge.”   
“Yes I do.” Harry insisted, “I want the sponge.”  
Capitulating to his adorable sternness, Sophie raised her eyebrows and made the trifle with her sponge. She handed it over to Harry, who took a first bite and immediately developed a twitch as he crunched through the cake. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and replied, “Delightful.”  
Sophie rolled her eyes, pulling the sponge from his hands and replacing it with the final bowl he has prepared. “Thank you Canary.” Harry said softly, as Sophie quickly returned to washing up the returned dishes.

“Sophie, look!” Alan called, pointing at the window. Sophie turned, drying her hands on a towel as she left the kitchenette and met Alan at the window with the rest of the children. Together they watched the snow falling outside the window. “If we all wash up and say our prayers, with any luck there will be a white Christmas come morning. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Hislop mused, “Come along children, off to bed.” The children left the window, making their way down the corridor to their dorms as Sophie watched. They passed Harry as he finished his trifle, “Goodnight children.” he called.  
“What do we say children?” Hislop asked. From the hall, voices replied, “Goodnight Mr. Hart. Goodnight Sophie.”  
“I’ll let myself out once I’m finished straightening up.” Sophie said to Hislop, “You go on and rest. And...please don’t forget the prayer for Nakry.”

Hislop hugged her, “Happy Christmas.” He said before turning to Puck, “Come along boy.” He started for the door before turning back as Sophie stepped back the the refrigerator. “It was very nice meeting you, Mr. Hart.”   
“Yes, lovely to meet you.” Harry replied, stepping over to shake his hand and collect Mr.Pickle as Hislop departed. He heard the pop of the cork as the door closed behind Hislop.  
“Would you like a glass?” Sophie asked as he turned back. Harry nodded as she retrieved two juice glasses from the small pantry and poured the Cliqucot. Handing the small glass to Harry, they tapped them but said nothing as he stared lovingly at her and they sipped. Sophie looked down the hall to ensure the children were away for the evening before walking over and producing a large box. Harry watched as she placed it on the table and pulled several sheets of wrapping paper from it.

“I didn’t have any time to finish this before,” Sophie explained, “I can leave once it is done and everything is put away.” Harry nodded his understanding as Sophie set to work wrapping each gift. He walked over and refreshed her glass, looking down at the gift as she taped the paper in place. “It’s very thoughtful of you to do this,” he complimented, “I’m sure the children appreciate the gift as much as everything else you do.”  
“The children don’t know,” she replied as she folded the paper along the sides of the box, “At least, I’ve never told them.” Sophie taped the crisp corner and curled a bit of ribbon to wrap around the box, “Every child should wake on Christmas feeling loved.”

Harry rested a hand on her shoulder as she worked, “These children are very lucky to be so loved,” he commented, “I’ve sampled that love. It is superlative.”   
Sophie smiled, turning the finished gift over and attaching the gift tag, “It’s just a little shared fraternal affection,” she replied.  
“Share a drink with me.” Harry requested, walking to the window. Sophie lifted, walking over to greet him. They stood together, sipping the champagne and watching the snow fall outside. Harry took her hand in his, running his fingers up and down hers as he laced them into hers. As he gently squeezed her fingers, Sophie closed her eyes and tipped the champagne back into her mouth. “Thank you for letting me visit.” Harry said softly, “It was nice to see part of your world.” Sophie looked down at her glass, pulling from his grip and clutching her glass.  
“I’m sorry I didn’t invite you,” she said, “I don’t know why I didn’t. I’m...not used to thinking of it.”  
Both of them remained at the window for a few moments, knowing the visit had ended yet not wanting for to quite end yet. “I better make my way,” Harry reluctantly admitted, “I’m keeping you from your gifts. I could help in the kitchen with the cleaning up if you…” Sophie waved him quiet, shaking her head. “It’s Christmas, go home and have a brandy. I’ll attend to this.”  
Sophie glanced in his direction before returning her attention to the snow. “I have another couple of hours work here, but I do hope it’s still snowing when I walk home.” Sophie rested her head against the windowsill, staring up at the night’s sky. “That’d be lovely.”  
Harry admired her as she stared out, her face bathed in the moonlight.   
“Happy Christmas Mr. Hart.” Sophie said dreamily.  
“Happy Christmas Ms. Hollander.” Harry replied sweetly.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and Christmas Day. Happy Christmas 1993!

Sophie stirred, opening her eyes on Christmas morning. She rolled over, smiling at the frost on her windowpane. Her last night had been wonderful, and though she felt at odds with having Harry so close to her former life, every time she found him at those thresholds she ached for him to remain. She rubbed her face, stretching as she sat up and met the morning. She didn’t exactly know how to miss someone so specifically, so she tried not to think of it. Slipping her feet into her slippers, she wrapped herself in a shawl and paced toward the kettle for a much desired cup of tea. Sleepily dropping the bag into her cup, she added the milk as her kettle hissed and switched off. Sophie stifled a yawn, pouring the rested water into her cup and carrying it to her coffee table.

Setting it down, her eye was drawn to the little gold box lying beneath the small decorative tree on her coffee table - the only tree in her little flat. For a few moments, Sophie stared at it, a blend of first awake disorientation and curiosity on her face. She considered a slow beginning to the day one of the little luxuries of being home, as she seldom had it when abroad working, and she was reluctant to concede it on Christmas morning. Still, the box remained propped under the tree, alone and brilliantly wrapped. Sophie carefully lifted the little box, unsure what to make of it. She removed the gift tag, turning it over to read the dedication:

Every child should wake on Christmas feeling loved.  
Quite right.

Sophie clasped her face with her hands warm from the teacup and looked from the note to the little box. She considered momentarily how he could’ve gotten the gift into the house, but dismissed the thought with a grin as she turned back to the box. Now pretty certain it *wasn’t* going to kill her, she set her tea down and lifted it in her hands. She removed the lid, dropping the small ring box into her hand and setting the outer box on the table. Sophie bit her lip, a bit nervous as she flipped the box open on its hinge and spied the elegant cufflinks inside. Sophie stared at them with bewildered delight. She had never considered cufflinks before, but immediately and completely adored them. She took the little gold links in her palms, examining the pattern and noting her monogram etched into the underside. Her fingertips swept over the “S.H.” and she sighed loudly in the empty room. “Mm-hmm” Sophie hummed aloud, rising to her feet and making her way to her bedroom.

Harry Hart had been up hours at this point, his orange spice cake in the oven and his goose already in its roasting pan above chopped vegetables and garlic. He sipped his beaujolais as he studied his recipe book when he heard a meek knock at the door. Looking up, his confusion turned hopeful as he walked through the dining room to the door. Sophie stood on his step, draped in a stunning white cape as she shook a bit of frost from her hair. “You’re here.” Harry said softly, elated.   
“Happy Christmas!” Sophie said brightly. Harry couldn’t tell if it was nerves or the cold making Sophie tremble, and he quickly ushered her inside and closed the door.   
“I didn’t mean to intrude, I only wanted to…” Sophie began, her sentence interrupted as Harry caressed her cheek and kissed her abruptly. As their lips parted slowly, Sophie continued softly, “...to give you this. And to...thank you for my wonderful gift.” 

Sophie looked into Harry’s eyes in the small corridor, his expression so mild and loving that as she slipped the wrapped package into his hands she couldn’t resist leaning in and kissing him softly. “I’ll just be on my way then.” Sophie said, turning to the door. Distraught at the notion, Harry caught her elbow as she turned, “Don’t go. Please,” he asked, “I just opened a lovely bottle of wine.” As they stood together, a bell sounded in the kitchen. Sophie turned to it in embarrassment, “Oh your dinner! And I’m showing up uninvited, how terribly rude of me.”   
“Nonsense.” Harry replied, walking to the kitchen and grabbing his oven warmers, “It’s just a bit of cake.” He opened the oven, sending a wave of delicious scents into the dining room. Sophie leaned at the threshold of the dining room, inhaling the rich aroma.

“You never need an invitation,” Harry announced, slipping the goose into the preheated aga and closing the door, “you are always welcome in this home.” He patted the cake, slicing a bit away and placing the rest on a cooling rack. As he poured a second glass of wine, Sophie watched him curiously. “I’ve never spent Christmas with someone,” she explained, “not as an adult, I mean. First school, then last year in Azerbaijan. I’m usually alone.”   
Harry carried over the small square of cake, popping it into Sophie’s mouth and beaming as she closed her eyes to thoroughly enjoy his creation. “Of all the things you are, Sophie Hollander, alone is not among them.” He remarked lovingly, “Stay.”  
Harry didn’t wait for her to swallow or confirm, slipping off her cape and taking it to the cloakroom. 

Sophie remained in the doorway until he returned, ushering her into the dining room and pulling a chair for her as he worked. Sophie sat watching as he cleaned the counter, setting out ingredients for his next project. “However did you become such a good baker?” Sophie asked.  
“I’m not sure I would describe myself thus,” Harry admitted bashfully, “I just have a lot of practice. I began at school. It proved a great way to fill lonely hours.”  
“Like the butterflies.” Sophie added.  
“Yes,” Harry confirmed, “Like the butterflies.”  
Sophie smiled as Harry set her glass of wine on the table, admiring her dress. It was white, off-shoulder and plain at the top with butterflies fluttering upward from the hem.  
“Come with me.” Harry instructed, taking her hand.

Sophie stepped into the kitchen, looking at Harry’s many tins and tools as Harry went to the cabinet to retrieve an apron. “Wash up!” Harry advised cheerfully, pointing with the apron at the sink. Sophie gave him a puzzled expression as she stepped to the sink and washed her hands; which turned into a blushing smile as Harry slipped his hands around her waist and tied the apron securely in place. His hands worked at a rapid pace against her stomach, tying a large bow with the straps. He then smoothed the apron at her hips as she finished washing up and turned to face him. “This is quite simple.” He instructed clearly, “First, we cream the butter. That’s easily done with a mixing bowl and a wooden spoon. Just mix the butter until it has a uniform, creamy texture.” Harry stepped back, taking a sip of his wine as Sophie took the spoon and began breaking the soft butter with the underside. She mashed it with a rudimentary effort, but Harry was amused at seeing her fleeting expressions as she focused.

“Now we add the orange bits.” Harry instructed. He dumped the remaining orange pulp into the butter and twirled his finger above the bowl as Sophie went back to work mixing the two together. Once they were blended, Harry retrieved his sieve and examined her work. “Now, this next part might be a bit more complicated,” he advised, “I think we should do it together. You take the sieve and I’ll take your spoon.” Harry took the bowl, and in a single sweeping motion he stripped all the mixture from the sides and into the bottom of the mixing bowl. Standing behind Sophie and reaching around her, Harry looked over her shoulder and continued, “Now, if you’ll dust the icing sugar into the bowl, I will fold it into the mixture as you do.” Sophie carefully dumped the sugar into the sieve, tapping it against her palm as the sugar fell lightly into the bowl.  
“That’s it. Perfect.” Harry instructed. Sophie blushed, continuing until there was no more sugar to sift.

Harry swept a finger across the spoon, offering it to Sophie’s lips proudly. Sophie sampled it, her expression going wild as she tasted it. “We did it!” She laughed, “That is gorgeous.”  
“You did it.” Harry replied, “Now it’s our Christmas cake, Canary. Well done you.”   
Sophie looked down, prouder of her simple frosting than she felt was sensical. Harry responded to her silence with a light squeeze and a small kiss on her left shoulder before parting from her and setting upon a drawer of gadgets in the small kitchen. “Now to frost.” He announced, “And no worries - it is only for us.”  
Sophie scoffed, still not looking up from her confection, “I’m going to ruin that cake.” She laughed. Harry raised a dismissive eyebrow as he rifled through tools within the drawer.   
“Baking is like spy work I find,” Harry said simply as he produced a very large icing spatula, “when in doubt, bring out the big guns.” 

Sophie looked at the curious instrument and laughed aloud. “What have I been doing?” She asked rhetorically, taking the spatula from Harry as he set the serving dish onto the counter and transported the cooled cake onto the dish. Sophie piled the icing onto the center, surprised with the ease of the spatula. The outcome was a bit messy, and certainly not as Harry could have finished it, but he loved it and hastened it to a place of display in the dining room. “Marvelous.” He said as he set it down, “Absolutely marvelous.” Sophie removed her apron, sipping her wine happily as she watched. The clock in the hall chimed and Harry checked his watch before turning to her. “There is a programme of Ealing comedies I was going to watch if it interests you.” he offered, “We could sit by the fire and enjoy our wine.”  
“That sounds delightful.” Sophie agreed, “I love those films.” 

Harry refilled her wine glass before making his way to the staircase with Sophie following. “After the programme, we could exchange gifts before the Queen.” Harry proposed. Sophie looked up, confused as she explained, “I’m sorry, but I already opened the gift you left for me. I didn’t think to bring them.” Harry continued up the stairs unabated by her comment, “I have others.”  
“Harry, you don’t.” Sophie protested, “How many?”  
Harry reached the top, stopped to consider and replied, “I’m not really sure. When a man is in love, he has a hard time not splashing out when he is reminded of his someone.” Sophie met him at the top of the stairs as he concluded, “Especially when his love is so often apart from him.”  
Sophie stopped in front of him, brushing noses and pressing her forehead to his. “Harry…” she muttered, her tone uncertain and critical. 

"I know we agreed to be discreet, and I am trying," Harry confessed, "but I am beginning to think there won't come a time when I won't want to sweep you in my arms the moment you enter a room." Sophie smiled as he took her cheek in his hand and lifted her eyes to meet his. “Did you not like the cufflinks?” He asked softly.  
“I loved them.” She replied, “I almost didn’t wear the dress so as to wear them, only the dress…”  
Harry smiled, “Was the dress for me, Canary?” he asked playfully as Sophie blushed and nodded. “See, that’s a second gift already. Also, those cufflinks aren’t a gift for you alone. The monogram was so easy, and with your name anyone might assume it’s simply ‘Sophie Hollander’ but we’ll know the truth, you and I.” Harry kissed her forehead and continued, “Whenever you wear them, wherever you are, you know that I love you. You’ll know that I’m thinking of you. When I see you wear them I will know it too.”   
“How very discreet.” Sophie replied, her eyes moistened with happy tears as she kissed him.  
“Ealing!” she cried with a soft laugh, and Harry turned and pulled her along to the sitting room. 

If someone were attempting to design how Sophie imagined a perfect Christmas setting, Harry Hart had done it. His fireplace was roaring, filling the room with soft glow and his tree was elegantly decorated in victorian ornaments with a brilliant glass star. Sophie looked around the room as Harry set the television in the corner for the programme. There were two high backed leather chairs side by side in the modest room. “May I?” Sophie asked as she approached them. Harry placed a collapsable table between the chairs for their glasses and replied, “Please.” He gestured to the chair and waited for her to sit before taking a seat beside her. Sophie sipped the wine, mostly watching the programme but also letting her gaze follow the room and take it in. She stared at the Christmas tree, wondering if he had selected the ornaments or if they had been inherited by family. 

My goodness, what of Harry’s family? Sophie wondered briefly. There was precious little from her family that survived probate and years in unprotected storage, and what did remain Sophie seldom took out. One mustn’t cling to the past. She resolved.  
She looked at Harry as he watched his programme, admiring his effortless loveliness. There must be so much he already keeps private from any family, and certainly I would be among that. She reasoned, her nervousness settling at that thought.  
She reached across the table and tucked her hand inside Harry’s silently, and he took it, his thumb brushing across her soft skin before he gripped it gently. He looked back at her as she focused on the television and smiled as her eyes shined in the firelight. Both parties returned to their programme and sighed in complete contentment with the world. 

At two PM, the broadcast changed to ‘Top of the Pops’ which Harry took as his cue, rising from his chair. “I’m going to finish up a few things for dinner. I’ll be back before the Queen, of course.” Harry explained.  
“Would you like my help?” Sophie offered, “I could do something, I’m sure.”  
“You remain and relax.” He replied, “I have everything in hand.”  
Harry stroked her hair for emphasis before turning and leaving her with Mariah Carey on the telly, which Sophie immediately made a face in response to. She looked down the hall and as she watched Harry disappear down the stairs, she quickly marched over to the telly and turned the volume down. She looked at the tree, seeing her gift resting among others and suddenly wondering if it will measure up. It isn’t easy shopping for someone so collected. Sophie sighed, resigning that she did her best as she took a long satisfying drink of wine. 

One mildly annoying thing about Harry’s flat was the constant quiet calm put Sophie at such an ease that it became difficult keeping track of time. Unlike any other place she had been, Sophie felt able to drift in thought or to doze lightly in this space, even her home. Harry’s home reflected him in every detail, and Sophie felt safe there. She was unsure if she had dozed in the chair, but it seemed the hour passed quickly before Harry returned to retrieve her glass and check for the queen. “Not yet.” Sophie answered dreamily, handing her glass up to him. She stretched, rising to meet Harry as the Queen began her speech. They stood together, listening as the Queen spoke of peace in Northern Ireland with a sober dignity.   
“I sometimes wonder if lasting peace in Ireland is really possible.” Sophie murmured sadly.  
“We do see the worst element in our work,” Harry advised, “That doesn’t mean the world is always so bleak.”

“Ever the optimist.” Sophie said, raising an eyebrow. Harry hugged her close resting his hands on her backside. “It’s Christmas. You’re here with me. What’s there to be pessimistic about?” he said charmingly, “Are you hungry Canary?” Harry leaned in, granting a gentle kiss to Sophie’s cheek as she hummed happily. “It smells incredible,” she replied, “I can’t wait my love.”   
Harry took her hand and led her down the stairs to the dining room. Sophie was amazed as Harry dressed the entire table in fine china and silver. Sophie stared at the ornate setting as Harry walked over and pulled the chair out for her. She looked up at him before muttering, “Thank you,” and taking her seat. She looked at the beautiful centerpiece and the John Lewis crackers as Harry delivered each dish to the table before bringing the goose to the table on a silver tray.

“It all looks so wonderful,” Sophie whispered, at a loss for the words to articulate her feelings. Harry understood, and smiled proudly at her shock. “It is...easier to exist in these worlds when working.” Sophie reasoned aloud, “When I’m not myself.”   
“Your crackers.” Harry replied, making Sophie laugh out loud.  
“That is a way to put it.” Sophie replied.  
“No,” Harry corrected jovially, “Your *Christmas* cracker.” He pointed at the cracker resting on her plate, making Sophie blush and shake her head.   
“Of course.” Sophie said, lifting the cracker and offering it to Harry. He gripped it, winked at her and pulled sternly as it loudly cracked and separated. Sophie checked her cracker, retrieving the paper hat and joke as Harry proudly displayed his prize shoe horn.

Harry carved the goose as Sophie placed her purple paper crown atop her head and beamed at him. Harry smiled back as he finished his carving and offered the sliced roast to her plate. Taking his seat, he offered his cracker and again won a small silver whistle, which he lifted for her to admire before donning his own orange crown. “Thank you,” Sophie said as she pushed food around her plate timidly, “for all of this. I was going to have a sandwich and watch ‘Only Fools and Horses’ before.” Sophie looked intensely at Harry, “And miss you.”  
Harry reached across the corner of the table and Sophie reached for him, meeting his hand and holding it briefly.  
“It’s really delicious.” Sophie gushed, “You’re such a good cook.”   
“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.” Harry replied pleasantly as they returned to their candlelit meal.

Following dinner, they returned to the sitting room and Harry set the small pile of gifts for Sophie on the rug. When Sophie saw the number of them she slowly sank to the floor before them, overwhelmed. She stared at the packages a long time, unsure how to accept them politely.  
“May I pour you a brandy before we begin?” Harry asked gingerly. Sophie nodded, looking up.  
Harry handed her the brandy, and she in turn handed Harry his gift and pointed to the chair beside her. Harry smiled, sitting down with his gift as she sipped her brandy. “This is divine,” she complimented, “thank you my dearest.”  
“You first,” Harry replied, “please, Canary. I’m so looking forward to seeing you open them.”  
Sophie sighed, lifting a small thin box and opening it. She gasped, lifting the Hermes scarf and clutching it to her cheek. “Oh Harry, it’s beautiful!” Sophie exclaimed softly.  
Harry beamed, caressing her cheek before turning to his own gift. He tore the paper, exposing the green Harrod’s box before opening it to discover a lavish shaving kit.

“Now, how did you know that I was just thinking about getting a new one of these?” Harry asked. Sophie’s smile exploded across her face, and from her seat on the floor she grasped his knee and rested her cheek upon it. “Do you really like it?” She implored. She rubbed her cheek across his knee slowly, looking up at him. Harry looked back at her adoringly, “I love it.” He assured her, “It’s exactly what I wanted. Thank you my love.”  
Harry rubbed her chin and Sophie covered her deeply reddened face. “Off you go then,” Harry instructed, “back to your presents.”   
“I can’t open all of these!” Sophie protested, “It’s too much Harry.” She spied the boxes and looked back at him, “There aren’t any more scarves, are there?” She asked mischievously, still clutching her gift. 

“There’s only one way to know, Canary.” Harry replied mockingly, standing to refill her glass as she turned back to the pile. “You find the other scarf,” she advised, kissing her temple, “and then we’ll have pudding and cream.”  
Sophie gasped excitedly, looking up at him. “You spoil me, Harry Hart.”  
“Off you go.” He instructed, walking down to the bar to refill her glass. From overhead, he heard her cooing and knew he was right to spare her opening the gifts in front of him. His beloved was simply not used to being given affections, and Harry knew that it takes time to learn how to accept the attention of a lover for the first time. He looked to the ceiling, smiling as he remembered her expressions throughout the day. In the quiet of the uneventful, with just the two of them together, Harry knew that he loved Sophie quite deeply. He delighted in her presence and he longed to see her continue to become the confident woman he knew her to be. 

Harry sipped her brandy, turning those thoughts over in his mind when he heard her coming down the stairs to find him. She said nothing, resting her hands on his shoulders as she leaned up, kissing him passionately. Her arms framed his neck as he took charge, pulling her hips to him and kissing her. “Thank you Harry.” She said as their lips parted, “I love...you. I simply love you.” Sophie rested against Harry’s chest and he kissed her forehead and held her close.  
“I’m glad you liked them.” Harry replied simply.  
“Like them?” Sophie giggled, “You have much better taste than I do, Mr. Hart.” Harry laughed as she continued, “You’re going to make me ever so stylish.”  
“You have fantastic taste.” Harry remarked, “You always look lovely.” He took her shoulders in his hands to look at her, and she took her brandy glass and savored a sip.  
“We’re Kingsman,” she replied, “it’s not hard to look good in those whistles.” She sipped her brandy, adding with a laugh, “You should have seen me as a teenager. I was New Romantic. It was painful.”

Sophie continued laughing at the thought, leaning against the table as she finished her brandy.  
“We all have awkward stories from our teenage years.” Harry soothed.  
“No you don’t,” Sophie replied as she stepped from her shoes, “I was walking around like one of the Berlin Blondes. You were a perfect little Englishman with your butterflies and your gorgeous cakes.” Harry blushed as Sophie beckoned him to the hall and wrapped her arms around his neck when he reached her. She swayed lightly, allowing him to hold to her body and lead in a slow dance.   
“You weren’t awkward,” Sophie continued, “You were out there, being the boy I dreamed was out there. Perfect from the start.”   
Sophie rested against Harry’s chest, tipsy but lightly so, and Harry reveled in her affectionate embrace. Harry continued dancing along with her, enjoying having her in his arms. “Oh my love,” Harry said softly, squeezing her gently.

“My dad would’ve liked you.” Sophie murmured, surprising Harry.   
“Really?” He asked innocently.  
“I think so,” Sophie explained, “I don’t remember a lot. I don’t talk about it often. He was a reporter. ‘Gotta make the deadline Agatha’ he’d shout from his office.” Sophie squeezed Harry’s neck, “I remember the typewriter echoing in our flat.”   
Sophie was silent but for a faint hum, and Harry turned over what she said as she rested against his chest. “He once told me, ‘Sophie, the most important thing we can do is fight injustice when we find it.’ He would’ve liked you.”   
Harry stroked her hair but didn’t say anything, just listening to her as she mused aloud.  
“I must’ve thought of them because it’s so like a home here. I haven’t felt that way in a long time.” Sophie said hopefully, “It’s really nice, feeling connected to someone.”  
Sophie looked up, smiling and nuzzled Harry’s neck. 

Harry found her fragility endearing, and was amused at her low tolerance to alcohol. As he listened to her good-humored stream of consciousness, he reached down and scooped her knees into his arms and lifted her off the ground. “Canary?” He asked sweetly, “I think we should retire to the bedroom. We’ve had a busy day and it would be nice to share a cuddle. What do you think?”  
Now in his arms, Sophie looked adoringly at him and said, “I am a little tired.” She leaned in, softly kissing his lips as he carried her around the corner to his bedroom. He set her down by the bed, and helped her unzip her dress at the back. Harry turned down the bed as she stepped out of her dress, and accepted her dress and corset as she peeled away each layer before climbing into his bed. “I’m just going to pop out and close everything for the night,” Harry explained, “I’ll be right back.”

Harry started in the sitting room, checking the fireplace before closing the guard and turning down the lights. He collected Sophie’s now neatly folded wrapping paper with a grin and continued to the kitchen, where he disposed of the paper and covered the spice cake for the morning. Doing a last careful sweep, he switched off the light and checked the locks before returning to the bedroom. “Canary?” he called gently, tapping on his bedroom door. Sophie moaned in affirmation for Harry to enter, and smiled as he entered. She watched as he slipped out of his cardigan and unbuttoned his shirt. “I’m sorry for picking such a strange topic from the air.” Sophie offered, “I don’t know why I thought of Dad tonight. I never do that.”  
Harry removed one of his shoes, pausing as she stopped. “It’s common to think of loved ones during the holidays. No reason to apologize.”

Sophie watched silently as Harry finished undressing and crossed the bed to climb in beside her. Once settled, she rolled over, resting her head on his chest and weaving her legs with his. “I don’t think of them often. It’s hard. I don’t want to think of loving them,” she admitted softly, “I don’t think I could take that. I do wonder if they’d be proud of me.”  
Harry looked down at her chestnut waves as she spoke, stroking them gently before resting his soft hand on her bare back. “My mother lives in Kent and has no idea what I do.” Harry explained, “I’m sure they would have been proud of an Imperial College champion fencer.” He smiled as she rubbed her cheek along his chest, “As proud as my mother is of my being a tailor.” Sophie sighed blissfully, and Harry grasped her hand in his left hand, kissing it. He gripped her back in his right arm and stared up at the ceiling contented. 

“I feel fractured sometimes.” Sophie confided, “Percival, Lancelot, David and Charlie - these people know me, but not really. Reverend Hislop thinks he knows me, but with each day he knows me less. My parents never got the chance…”  
“I think that’s true of everyone.” Harry said flatly, “I think we are all changing, showing parts of ourselves to certain people along the way. Only we know every bit of our ourselves at any given point in our lives. Some of us might not even know ourselves.”  
Sophie looked up at Harry as he mused, her hair spilling around her face and making her green eyes glow in the warm light of the bedside lamp.  
“Harry, sometimes I think you’re going to know me better than anyone in my entire life,” Sophie divulged, “and that thought makes me very happy.” Sophie kissed his stomach twice before resting against it. 

Harry smiled intensely, his chest swelling with pride as he held his beloved. “Thank you for a wonderful Christmas,” Harry whispered, “and in the morning there will be coffee in the press, or a proper cup of tea, and our lovely moreish orange cake,” Harry paused, listening to her breathing before he acknowledged softly, “...and you’re asleep, aren’t you?”   
Sophie said nothing, and Harry laughed softly as he closed his eyes and rubbed his feet against hers. “Happy Christmas Sophie,” he whispered, “sleep well my love.” 

 

New Year’s Eve came at last to close 1993, and Sophie walked around her old neighborhood taking in the crisp morning air. She added a new scarf to her winter coat and was walking with a new sense of dignity about her, slower as she passed each well known landmark. She hummed ‘There is a Light That Never Goes Out’ as she turned the corner and spied the children at the care home constructing a crude ramp in the small side yard. Amused, she walked over curiously to meet Reverend Hislop as he sat alone on the bench opposite the yard watching. “Is this your doing?” Hislop asked, his tone slightly annoyed.   
“Well, good morning.” Sophie replied sarcastically, “Is what my doing now?”  
As if to answer her question, the children produced a brilliantly shiny new bicycle and built speed, pedaling around the yard. Sophie’s surprise was evident as she replied, “I give you my word, that was not my doing.” 

“Sophie, look!” The children cried, and Sophie waved her reply as Evan charged the ramp and jumped, landing on the walk and cruising along as the rest cheered.   
“Be careful!” Sophie shouted across the walk, turning to Hislop, “No. That was not from me.” Sophie laughed softly, “It’s not bad though. They do seem to be having a good time.”  
“Yes,” the vicar agreed, “and they will continue to for at least another year. Thank you for your support.” Reverend Hislop waved an envelope from inside his coat pocket but Sophie didn’t look at it, her focus remaining on the children at play.  
“I don’t know what you mean.” Sophie dismissed.  
“Like you don’t know about the bicycles?” Hislop queried.  
“No, unlike my ignorance there,” Sophie laughed, “I did not purchase the bicycles.” She stood, shaking out her coat before she turned to shake Hislop’s hand and leave.

“Sophie!” The children called, waving her over. Sophie crossed the street, briskly walking to meet the children on her way. They met her at the gate, handing over several drawings of Mr. Pickle and Puck playing together. Sophie smiled as she examined them.   
“These are lovely.” Sophie said brightly.  
“They’re for Mr. Hart.” Maisey replied, “Will you give them to him when you go to the shop?”  
“I certainly will,” Sophie replied happily, “You know, I’m on my way there now.”  
“Alright children, inside for a nice cup of tea.” Hislop instructed. As they waved goodbye and filed into the building, Hislop commented before walking away, “Tell Mr. Pickle we said thank you.”  
Sophie watched them walking away, a queer smile on her face as she looked down at the illustrations.

She slipped the illustrations into a envelope upon arriving at the shop, attaching the envelope to the outside of Harry’s locker with tape. Smiling at them as she turned to her locker, she opened it and was taken aback at the sight. Inside her locker was a framed article from The Times, titled, “Injustice, Anger, and the Rise of Powell.” The bi-line read, ‘by William Hollander’ and as Sophie lifted it she saw the attached note:

It’s good to remember.

Sophie stared at the framed article for several minutes, startled out of her concentration as Percival and Galahad entered the locker room. “Happy New Year!” Percival greeted as he entered, snapping Sophie to the present and allowing her to tuck the frame back into the locker discreetly. 

“Happy New Year Percival. Goodbye 1993.” Sophie greeted, closing her locker. Harry removed the envelope, opening it and smiling as he studied the contents. He glanced up at Sophie, but said nothing as she turned to Percival, “Do you like my new cufflinks?” She asked, raising her wrists to him. Harry watched as Percival examined them, and Sophie’s gaze met his when she explained, “I just adore them.”   
“They are quite nice.” Percival complimented, “They suit you.”  
“Goodness, I hope so.” Sophie agreed, lowering her cuff as Arthur looked in from the hall.  
“Guinevere, I’m glad you’re here.” Arthur called, “I have information for you.”  
“Be right there,” Sophie called. Harry turned back to his locker, opening it to slip his new art into it, and retire his briefcase as Sophie passed by.  
“Happy New Year Galahad.” She said simply.  
“Yes, and to you Guinevere.” He replied.


End file.
